A Father's Love
by writtenrhythm
Summary: Dom Santiago lost everything in the war against the locust. Fifteen years later his daughter, Sylvia Santiago, emerges under a new name. Will they recognize each other? And, more importantly, will they forgive each other?
1. The Beginning Of The End

Thirteen years before fall of Jacinto

Dominic Santiago's house, Ephyra.

"_I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, 'Mother, what was war?'"_

_-A pregnant Maria Santiago as she prepares for her husband to leave on a deployment._

"Mommy, why did Daddy have to leave?" Sylvia asked yet again. Her mother, Maria, was busy braiding her hair. Sylvia's grandparents were there also, but the mood was somber.

"You know why," her brother interrupted, "He's got to go kick butt!" He made small karate chops on the last words, accenting them.

"But you said he got to come home for two weeks! I want Daddy!" she kicked her feet and stuck her bottom lip out in a classic pout.

"Hush, child." Her mother said quietly but firmly. She finished with the young girl's braid and tied a small ribbon at the end. The little girl in front of her stood up, and her mother patted her on the butt affectionately. Maria quickly fastened a locket around the child's neck. "Here, sweetheart. I want you to have this."

The girl lifted the necklace in her hand and examined it closely. "What's this, Mommy?"

Her mother bent down in front of her, "Look, if you open it up there's two pictures inside. The one on this side is Mommy and Benedicto, and that one there is you and Daddy." she closed the locket and allowed it to fall back around the girl's neck.

"And here, son. Your father gave this to me to give to you," Grandpa said gruffly, pulling out a small pocket knife. He handed it to Benedicto, reminding him to be careful with it.

"Cool!" Bennie gushed, eyes wide. Something occurred to him, and he glanced back at Grandpa with something akin to fear in his eyes. "But why are we getting these? It's not a holiday."

Maria didn't know how to answer, and looked to her father-in-law for help. He patted Bennie on the back and smiled. Before he could answer, a small shock made the house quake, causing the glasses to clink in the cabinet and a small sprinkling of dust to fall down onto the silent party in the kitchen.

Grandmother gave a small, terse smile and nodded to Sylvia. "Why don't you and Bennie go and play, and let us talk to your mom." The way she stated it wasn't a question.

Sylvia skittered down the hallway back to her room, calling out an "Okay, Grandma!" over her shoulder. She came to a stop in a jungle of toys and baby dolls. Two unmade beds were in the room, one covered with a bright pink blanket, the other with a camouflage one. She ignored all of this though, and headed for the small window that looked into a neighbor's house. It was low to the ground, short enough for her skinny four year old arms to reach up and open halfway. She peered into the adjoining window of the neighbors' house. Looking disgruntled, she picked a small stone off the pile on her windowsill. She lightly tossed it at the other window, creating a light clinking sound when it hit. They were kept there for that very reason.

A few minutes later the window opened, revealing another young girl. They looked remarkably alike, with long dark hair and olive skin. They were the same age, and of Latino descent, which foretold their similar features.

Sylvia smiled. "Hey, Brianna. Whatcha wanna do today?"

"My daddy told me to stay inside today," the other girl said. She glanced down to Sylvia's outfit and her eyes seemed to brighten. "Is that the same dress your mom gave me?"

Sylvia looked down, seeming to notice what she was wearing for the first time. She nodded excitedly and said, "Yeah! Go put yours on and we'll be twins for the day!"

Brianna nodded eagerly. "Okay!" she disappeared into her room. She came back to the window, wearing the same navy blue outfit as Sylvia. She was smiling excitedly, until something caught her eye and she frowned.

"What's wrong?" Sylvia asked her.

"Your hair. It's in a braid." she said unhappily.

Sylvia reached back and touched her hair, realizing that she was right. Brianna's hair hung straight down her back because she had no mother to pin it up for her. Sylvia, in a bought of curiosity, had once asked her daddy what had happened to Brianna's mom. His eyes had gone dark, and he had told her simply that, "She's not in the picture anymore." Sylvia couldn't imagine what it would be like without her mommy. She pulled the tip of her braid to her chest, and began working on the thin ribbon that kept it in place. She ran her fingers through her hair, undoing all her mother's hard work.

"There!" she exclaimed happily, "We really _are_ twins now!" Brianna nodded, smiling widely. "So," Sylvia continued, "Wanna go play in the sandbox out back?"

Brianna glanced to the backyard. "But I was told to stay inside," she whined unhappily, and Sylvia could tell she was dying to break the rules.

"Come on. The backyard isn't outside, it's practically part of the house. You won't get in trouble, I promise." Sylvia told her, and her eyes gleamed.

"All right then. I'll meet you there." She disappeared into her room again, leaving the window open. Now all Sylvia had to do was get outside. The front door was locked, and her brother Bennie was playing by the back door. Suddenly, she got an idea. She went to retrieve her stool from the bathroom, the one she used to brush her teeth every morning. She paused halfway through the hallway because she could hear the adults talking in the kitchen.

"…everything's very hush-hush. The government's not saying anything." she could just barely make out her grandmother's voice.

"I need Dom here," her mom's voice was quiet. "I can't do this without him."

"What do you mean 'this'? Ain't nothing happening. The COG's just being paranoid and recalling all troops to make themselves feel better," her grandpa muttered, "The earth shakes a few times and the army yells that the sky is falling. He'll be back here in a few days, I guarantee it."

Sylvia heard his heavy boot falls getting louder, so she scurried back to her shared room. She placed a pile of books on the floor underneath her window, and carefully dropped the stool onto the soft carpet of grass below. She had just managed to heft one leg up and over the windowsill, when the bedroom door creaked open. She turned to face the intruder.

"What are you doing?" Bennie asked incredulous. He quickly stepped into the room and shut the door behind him before mother could see.

"I'm going to go play in the sandbox out back. Wanna come?" she asked him. She reached for the stool with her toe.

"No way. You heard what Mom said, it's dangerous out there." He watched her warily, seeing her stretch her foot out towards the ground below her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Chicken," she said simply, a dare written on her face.

Bennie sighed, remembering the promise his father had made him make. He had stood in front of him, wearing the most serious face that he could muster at his six year old age. _When I'm on duty, you're the man of the house. Take care of your sister, and your mother for me._

_Take care of your sister._

He groaned quietly. At this point, she was almost out of the window, and he followed her. It was much easier for his taller frame to reach the stool and climb out the window. Brianna was waiting for them, already on her way to building a soaring sand castle.

"Hey!" Sylvia called out excitedly, and joined her in the sand. Bennie stood behind them, nervously keeping an eye out for his mother to come storming down the narrow walk with fire in her eyes.

Brianna frowned at the crack in her shovel. She brightened with an idea and stood up suddenly, calling "I'll be right back!" over her shoulder. She crawled into a basement window in her own home. Sylvia continued molding a mote around the castle.

"Sure you don't want to play?" she asked her brother.

He narrowed his eyes at her and was just about to reply when a violent shaking started behind him. Bennie turned suddenly, peering into the street. He walked forward cautiously, trying to get a better look. He ended up in the front yard, looking up and down the street.

Brianna crawled out of the basement window, looking worried. "What's going on?" she asked Sylvia, the newly acquired shovel now dangling forgotten in her hands.

"I don't know…" she trailed off, looking around. "I'm going to go see if my mommy is okay." She tore off for the stool, catching the windowsill in her hands and lifting herself up with a strength her young age belied.

She could hear her mom yelling for her inside, then the slam of the front door. Heart beating frantically, she leaned out her window to a gruesome sight. She could just barely make out the middle of the street sinking into the Earth. Her eyes widened, and she tried to climb out the window again. Something with white, scarred hands was beginning to climb out of the hole.

Before she could lift her foot over the windowsill, Bennie ran back through the narrow walkway between the houses. "Come on!" he screamed at Brianna, the tense situation causing him to mistake her for Sylvia. "Mom's waiting for us!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her in the direction of the street.

Brianna struggled against him, screaming for him to let her go. The world had collapsed into turmoil, and the only sounds were the screams and sharp retort of gunfire.

"Wait!" Sylvia called after them, and she struggled to climb out of the window. She had just managed to push her head out the small window when a ghastly scene met her eyes. Through her narrow vantage point, she saw Bennie turn his head to look at Mother. Something ripped through him, leaving a glittering trail of blood on the hot pavement below. He fell to his knees, jerking as more bullets pierced his body. Brianna turned to run, when a spare bullet found its way into her head, shattering her skull and causing instant death. She too, fell to the ground.

"No!" the little girl screamed, seemingly not realizing what she was doing. She allowed herself to fall out of the window, scrambling to her feet. She saw her mother bending over Bennie's body, sobs racking her body. Sylvia called out for her mother, but her voice was drowned out under the chaos that had invaded her sleepy street. She had almost made it out of the passage way between the two houses, when a man appeared and covered the image of her mother and brother. She barely had time to glance up to register him as Brianna's father before he scooped her up and ran with her back down the aisle, away from the street.

"No!" she said and kicked him weakly, "No, take me back! Take me back!"

He jolted, and his eyes grew wide. He fell on top of Sylvia, coughing up blood. He held her tight in one arm, protecting her from the bullets that were still ringing through the air above them. His other hand found the small locket, and not realizing what he was doing, squeezed it until the hinge broke. He looked down, and his last sight was of the girl who was not his daughter. He gasped in surprise, then slumped over her as one last bullet found his back.

She struggled against his weight, and the broken half of the locket fell to the ground, creating a light tinkling when it hit. She scrambled out from his grasp, not allowing herself to look too closely at his bleeding form. She turned to run back to Mother and Benedicto, when a grub appeared over her brother's body and stopped, sniffing the air. The thing was tall, taller than her daddy. It looked so inhuman, with it's short thick nose and wide set eyes. He stretched his grey and mottled skin over his teeth, and inhaled deeply. He looked down the passage way, and her eyes widened when its gaze stopped on her. Without thinking, she turned and ran through the backyard and into the woods, waiting for the sharp sting of a bullet to hit her. She ran past the broken half of her locket, blood slowly staining the face of her father and herself red.

She ran and ran, sometimes stumbling over the uneven ground. She wanted to outrun the day, to outrun the images of her brother and best friend dying in front of her, and the shock in the man's eyes as he finally died. She wanted to outrun the fear that had gripped her when the pale _thing_ had looked at her. She wanted to run, and to never stop. Her lungs burned and her hair tangled behind her. Finally she tripped over something and stayed down. She curled into a little ball, looking for her house and finding no trace of it. This was so much farther than she had ever been, even with her father. She clasped her hands over her ears to block out the muffled cracks of gunfire. Shaking and crying, she laid on the ground, humming to herself to add some semblance of normalcy. Exhausted by her emotions and her crying, she finally fell asleep.

A hand shook her awake sometime later. She jolted, eyes wide with fear, halfway expecting the white man to have followed her.

"Hey," a man said softly, drawing his hand back slowly. "What's your name?"

It was only a split second decision, one made in a moment of fear and uncertainty. She had wanted to escape this world, this new one without her brother and best friend. She wanted to be rid of it forever, to be rid of _herself._ She never thought of what the possible consequence would be when she opened her mouth and said, "Call me Brianna." She stood up and felt something slide around her neck. She reached up and found the other half of the locket, still attached to the chain. Her eyes welled up as she saw her brother's and mother's smiling faces.

"Here," the stranger said, holding out his hand. "Come with me. I'll keep you safe."

Sylvia reached up and took his hand, her other still clenching the broken locket tight in her small fist.

**A/N Hello Readers! This is my first Gears fic, and hopefully we're off to a great start. Like it so far? click that little button below here and let me know! Reviewers will recieve a preview of the next chapter, and my forever thanks. **

**Quick shout outs to my betas-  
Rockforthecross- I know you've never played Gears, but thanks for taking a look at this!  
****Kade Riggs- Thanks for all your imput and help! (Everyone go read her gears story, Gears in Therapy. Its amazing and you'll absolutly love it!)**

**So why are you still reading this? Go click the review button and talk to me. Go!**


	2. Vigilante

Baric block

Present day.

_"I have a little girl. I forgot. I really did; I forgot her for a while. How could I?"_

-Dominic Santiago during the battle for Aspho

The destroyed and desolate buildings stood like the tombstones of civilization. Somewhere in the distance a hawk screamed, sending its echo through the streets. I shivered and clutched my gun tighter. I walked swiftly and carefully along one of the balconies, keeping my ears peeled for any danger. I found a small crevice and burrowed in, deep enough to hide my muzzle flash and so I could still see Echo squad three blocks over. I had been trailing them for a little over a week. Their mission was to clear out Baric block of any remaining grubs. So far it had been a cakewalk, nothing the squad couldn't handle on their own. They would be reporting back to command tonight.

I set my gun up, bracing it against my shoulder and laying it on a make-shift tri-pod that I had fashioned out of scraps of metal. The original tri-pod had broken long ago, a few months after I had scavenged the rifle. The gears where humanity's last hope, but they couldn't make a rest for a longshot for shit. I checked the chamber before sliding a tarnished bullet into place and letting the bolt slide home. I placed out a few more bullets alongside the gun for easy reach and fast reloading. I thumbed over the safety, making sure it was off. I looked through the scope, making a hasty head count. My boys were still there.

"Let's see if we can't keep it like that, shall we?" I murmured out loud to nobody. Sam whined quietly behind me; she hated not being part of the action. "Hey, what's your problem?" I asked her.

She crawled a few steps closer to me and wagged her tail. I patted her a few times, then pointed behind me, "Go keep watch." She turned around and sat up. She sniffed the air a few times then relaxed; her way of letting me know nothing was wrong. I smiled and took a second to admire her yet again. She was beautiful, part German Sheppard and part something else. I'd have to thank Momma again for giving her to me.

I turned back to my scope. Immediately my heart skipped a beat. _They were gone._ I twisted a dial on the scope to widen my picture. I was looking down a street that intersected into another, but they had both been reduced to little more than piles of broken concrete and shells of burned out cars. The scene through my scope was a standard city square, and the lower right quadrant all of the buildings had collapsed; leaving me with a window to watch Echo squad. I relaxed when I made out a gear's shadow just resting on my side of an old building. "There you are," I whispered and Sam grumbled in acknowledgement. "Let's see if we can get them home in one piece."I trained my eyes on that shadow, grumbling when it disappeared. If I was a certified gear sniper, they would have known better than to leave my line of sight. As it was, nobody knew where, or who, I was. Hell, they didn't even know I existed. They were walking in a standard five meter patrol march when they all ducked and fell into cover.

A sharp burst of fire dragged me out of my musings. "_Shit!_" I exclaimed and focused on the street where I had last saw my team. I could just see the reflected light of the gunshots on a broken window. I was too far away to have felt the grub-hole emerge. I put myself in Echo Squads place. The way I saw it, they had two options. They could stay put, which they would do if they had sufficient cover, or they could retreat out of the street in hopes of a better set up.

"Back up, back up, _back up!" _I repeated. If they retreated, the grubs would follow. They liked to get in as close as possible. It was purely a mental tactic; they had to know how grotesque they looked to humans. But more importantly, if they retreated, I would have a clear shot. It was torture to be able to hear the gun fire but not be able to see what was happening.

Finally a member of Echo Squad backed out of the street and took cover on the close side of the building. "That's right baby, keep 'em coming." I aimed my cross hairs about a foot over his right shoulder. The rest of the squad slowly worked their way out of the alley way and into the intersection, taking the grubs with them. I picked off one that was hidden behind the shell of an abandoned car, while another one charged forward and picked a chainsaw battle with one gear. I kept my crosshairs set on their duel, but there wasn't a way to get a clear shot. Out of the corner of my scope, I saw another soldier reach for a grenade. "Shit!" I said. With the years of destruction on the building's foundation, the blast from the grenade could bring the whole building down around their heads. I fired a few warning shots to make them back up.

"Sniper!" I faintly heard someone yell. They began to back out, but not before the rookie Gear let the grenade fly. I saw the blast, and the first few crumbles of concrete fall off of the buildings. The chainsaw warrior finally brought his blade down through the locust's body as half the building collapsed on top of him.

"Higgins?" I heard their sergeant shout, "Higgins, where are you?" The team started moving blocks of the fallen building, looking for their fallen comrade. The only benifit about the building's collaspe was that it appeared to have brought down the rest of the locust. Finally one of the searchers waved his hand, indicating that he had found something. They dragged out Higgin's body, and I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding when I saw him sitting up under his own power.

The team's self- appointed medic began checking pulse points in the lower leg, a sure sign of a broken bone. I saw their sergeant lift a finger to his ear, probably using his com-link to call in for a med-evac. I watched them through my scope until I heard the tell-tale whoop of the Raven's blades. I back crawled out of my hiding space just as they began to load their wounded onto the helicopter.

"Let's go home," I said to Sam. She got to her feet and stretched.

* * *

I jogged the way back home, keeping to tight alleys and backstreets. There was no telling what could take a girl down in these days, grubs, rapist, thieves…Hell, even a gear could take a shot at you if he was in the mood.

The familiar gates of the compound came into view. Sam trotted a few paces ahead of me and gave one short bark. I got closer I could see the gate-keeper getting to his feet from the watch post.

"Well…look who it is! You finally get back from baby-sittin' those gears?"

I glared up at him, "Just open the damn gates, Darvish."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get to it." He leaned nonchalantly on the side of his post. "You know, word on the street is that Dix is lookin' for ya'."

_Shit_, I thought. Dix was the leader of our merry gang here. He wasn't the worst, as far as Stranded over-lords went. Rumors were that there was a stranded group up north that would move from abandoned city to abandoned city, taking over. What got everyone's attention was that they supposedly _ate_ their victims, human and locust. Word was that the COG had put an end to them all, but that was all anyone had to go on. Communications had been almost completely wiped out after Emergence day.

"Well, if Dix is looking for me, he won't be too happy with you holding me up, now will he?" I called up to him.

He frowned, making his dirty face resemble the rats that ran around the compound at night. "Whatever…" he said dejectedly, unable to argue with my logic. He pulled on one part of the pulley and opened the gates just wide enough for Sam and me to slip through.

I murmured a 'hello' to the guards that were standing by, and one of them nodded at me. I stepped over one of the iron bars that criss-crossed their way through the camp. We had suffered a few attacks from grubs burrowing their way underneath the compound. As a result, Dix had ordered a nearby factory to be demolished and the iron bars spread out. I guess it worked; we hadn't had an attack since.

"So…" I muttered, "Dix wants to see me. How about we go and visit Mamma instead?" I asked Sam. She gave a happy bark before bounding down a nearby alley-way. She paused halfway through and turned with her head cocked, looking at me as if to say, "You coming?" I laughed before following her down the alleyway.

Sam plodded along ahead of me, and Mamma's shack soon came into view. The slab of wood that served as a door shifted to the side, and Momma appeared. She wasn't any one's mother per say, as her only children had died years earlier in a random attack. She was the camp's care taker. Sick? Go see Momma, she'd take care of you. Needing a place to crash for the night? Go to Momma, she'd hook you up. She even looked like a pre E-day grandmother, with wrinkled skin and kind eyes. The only compliance with reality was her unwashed body and too-big clothes that drooped around her body.

Sam trotted up to her and Momma gave her a few joyful pats on the side. Sam sniffed her pocket and Momma pulled out a slice of dried meat, which Sam immediately gobbled up. My stomach rumbled at the sight, but I refused to ask for any. I had taken more that my share of support from Momma in the past, and I didn't want to end up owing her any more.

"Hey Bri," she called out to me as I neared her shack, "You know that Dix is-"

"Lookin' for me, yeah, I know. That's sort of the reason I'm here. Just needed to unwind a bit before I head back into battle. You wouldn't happen to know what he wants, would you?" I asked.

She shrugged, "Something about giving you a job to do." I cocked an eyebrow.

"A job? Does it pay?"

She gave me a look, "It's more of those, 'We'll kill you if you don't do it' kind of things."

I frowned, "Ah. Never liked those."

She nodded slowly before gesturing inside. I ducked into her small place, forgoing the cot for a place on the floor. She followed Sam and I after moving the slab of wood back into place, leaving a small break between it and the door so a small sliver of light could enter. She shuffled over to the cot and Sam left my side to slump down by her feet. I narrowed my eyes. _Traitor_, I thought to myself.

"So," she began, "How'd it go with Echo squad?"

"Not as well as I'd hope," I said, and began relaying the story to her. She shook her head sadly when I got to the building's collapse.

"What a shame. I'll be praying for him," was all she said. I shifted uncomfortably, as I always did whenever she mentioned her religion. I didn't believe in a higher power, and thought that those who needed the comfort of doing so were weak. I had once asked Momma if He was a loving God, why He would leave her to rot in hell. She had simply smiled at me and said, "Because He needs me here."

Sam stretched her paw out, and I tapped her foot when one of her claws dug into my leg, and she moved it. Momma observed all of this before saying, "Dizzy was here earlier."

This perked me up. Dizzy had been a member of the compound before he joined the COG and moved to Jacinto. He said that it was so his daughters would be safer in the city, which was true. He was the one who got me into Dix's camp. He also told me which squads were heading out, and where.

"Cool. Did he give you any information for me?" I asked her.

"There's a squad heading out tomorrow. Delta squad. Ever hear of them?"

I thought for a second, "I've heard of them, but never met any of them personally. Rumor is that they have their own personal guardian angel looking out for them. Man, if Dizzy says that they need my help, they must be in some serious shit."

Momma frowned at me, "Watch your mouth."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Me going out to backup numerous Gear squads? No problem. Me saying a cuss word? It was the pendulum wars all over again."Whatever..." I said begrudgingly. "I should probably get going. Someone is going to tell Dix I'm here, if they haven't already."

She nodded, and rose to move the door out of the way. I started walking away, when I heard her call my name. I turned just in time to see a small bundle wrapped in a dingy white rag make it's way toward my head. I caught it just in time and one corner fell open, revealing the package. Jerky.

I snapped my head up at her and saw her laughing at me. She knew that there was no way I would have taken anything had she offered, just as I knew that she wouldn't take it back now that she had it in my hands."And don't hog it all!" she called after me, "Save some for Samantha!" She disappeared inside.

I scowled down at Sam and she wagged her tail hopefully. "'Save some for Samantha'," I quoted before stuffing the package into my pack. "Yeah right, _She's_ the one whose most likely to hog it all." Sam, aka Samantha, whined softly and nuzzled my pack. She hung her head dejectedly when I gave her a firm 'No'. Momma knew how much I hated to be beholden to anybody, yet she insisted on giving me things that she knew I could never repay. I shrugged off my aggravation and headed off towards headquarters, where I'd assumed Dix would be lurking. Again I nodded at some of the guards before heading in. They just shifted their weapons uncomfortably, which did _not_ fill me with warm and fuzzy feelings. I headed inside.

This building was mainly used for housing refuges and injured after attacks, or for Compound meetings. The fact that Dix's quarters weren't much bigger than the rest of ours earned him a few points in my book. The world had enough Slum-lords that held protection over people's heads, and in turn took everything from those they had sworn to 'save'. I caught a glimpse of Dix on the other side of the room. He stood about half a foot taller than me, with slicked back black hair, and a shadow across his lower face. He was built well, but he had nothing on a gear. He didn't have the same muscle mass of a fully trained gear, nor the weight of one, but he was still big enough to knock grubs on their asses. He was talking to some other guards, but when he saw me he sent them away.

"Ah...Bri. I've been expecting you," he said with his patented smile that only slightly lifted one side of his mouth.

"So I've heard. What's this about, Dix?" I asked him. Sam stood close to my side, watching Dix with untrusting eyes.

"A proposition," he said simply. He took his boot off of the crate it had been resting on and strode towards me. "You see, it's come to my attention that guardian numbers are dropping, and some are complaining about your babysitting adventures."

I stiffened, "Yeah? Well tell them to take their complaints and shove 'em up their ass, because I still gather more food then anyone else, and ordinance too."

He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I know that, I know that. But think of how much use you could do for us, if you weren't caught up in playing hero for these gears of yours."

I glared at him, "If you've got a problem with me 'playing hero', you just say it here and now. I'll be out of here before tonight."

"That's not what I meant, and certainly not what I want you to do." He paused in his pacing when he came to close to Sam and she growled. He gave her a look and backed up before continuing. "Though I am curious as to why you insist on protecting them. Their not you responsibility, yet you take care of them as if you're one of them. Aren't you pissed after they turned you out on your ass?"

I bristled. "Of course I'm pissed. But it was some damn politics that threw me out, not the gears."

He shrugged, "One and the same."

"No its not!" I snarled, and Sam's growling increased in volume. "The COG isn't some soul-crushing machine, dumbass," I astutely ignored the fact that I just called our leader a dumbass. "It's _society_. I've never met a soldier who knew he was a hero. It's not false modesty. They simply decide to do something that they know they _must_ do, because if they don't, people will suffer in some way. So yeah, I wanted to be a gear, and Prescott had some speech about 'protecting the future of humanity' and wanted to send me off to a farm to be a baby maker. Not the gear's fault. So no, I'm not pissed at the gears, I'm pissed at the damn politics of the whole thing. Two different things." Prescott was the chairman in charge of the COG, and a royal pain in the ass. At least in my opinion.

He held his hands up in a show of peace-making. "Alright, alright. Don't shoot me for askin'," he eyed my sidearm like he thought I might draw it at any second. "I've got a job for you."

I eyed him doubtfully. "What kind of job?"

He sat down on the crate, and motioned me over towards one. I remained standing. "As you know, locust numbers are dropping, thanks to the COG dropping the light-mass bomb in the middle of their base. I want you to keep a track of where the gears are moving, what areas their trying to take control of."

"I see. And remind me why the hell I would do this for you?"

He did his odd little half smile again. "I can be your best friend, or I can be you very worst enemy," his gaze traveled down my body appreciatively, and I resisted the urge to shudder. "I'd much rather us be friends." He clapped his hands together, "Besides, if the COG starts setting up shop in my backyard, I'd want to know about it, wouldn't you? I'm not asking you to betray your little Gear pals, or to give up 'playing hero'. I'm just asking for a little cooperation, and a little information."

I curled my nose in distaste, "Yeah, okay. I'll think about it." I turned to walk out of Dix's office.

"Remember who fills your meal ticket!" he called out to me as I left.

My pace didn't falter as I strode out of the common area and through one of the back areas near my room. The streets were abandoned; it was getting dark and anyone with any sense was seeking out shelter. Dix might be a lot of things, but for once he was right. I owed him a lot; probably more than I could ever repay. It wasn't safe out there for anyone, but especially not for a girl my age. He gave me shelter, but it was more than that. He gave me a sense of security, and in this world, that's nothing to take lightly.

I reached my room just as the sun was slinking down over the horizon. It was tiny, nothing more than a pre-war custodian's closet, but it was mine. I double locked the chain that held the door shut after Sam plodded in after me. I slumped down on the mat that served as a bed, and removed my sniper rifle's sling from around my neck and set the gun down, pointing the barrel towards the door. I pulled out two pieces of jerky and gave one to Sam, and I also poured some water from my canteen into her water dish. The wall to the outside had given through in multiple places, leaving just enough to keep me modest as I changed clothes, which was only whenever I had something to change into-which wasn't often, but enough to give me a nice view of my dying world.

Over the compound's gates and small river that winded it's way through the compound, I could just make out the top of Jacinto's skyline. The division between the two worlds filled me with a sense of anger and sadness, as it always did. It was so stupid to have this animosity between the 'stranded' and the 'COG'. It was more than stupid; it was suicidal. We should be focusing our efforts on destroying the locust, not fighting amongst ourselves. All my life I had wanted to be a gear, and when I reached the minimum age for them to take me, they gave me that damn ultimatum. So now here I was, on the outside looking in. It wasn't all that different than what I had envisioned for myself, tiny barracks, bad food, and a nights sleep before heading out on another mission in the morning. Sam laid her head down on my lap and I smiled. I couldn't complain about my comrades either. I sighed as I laid back on my mat, letting my eyes sink shut.

_Get Ready, Delta Squad…_ I thought to myself, _'Cause here I come._

_**Authors Note-Finally, another chapter! I had this one typed up earlier, when my laptop went to the great computer shop in the sky. T.T It took me forever to get this re-typed, (Once bitten, Twice shy and all that,) But now that I've got this out, more chapters should follow quickly.**_

_**As always, thanks to my Gears beta, Kade Riggs. Go read her GoW story, Gears In Therapy. It's seriously epic, and what prompted me into writing GoW fics! (after wanting to for about a year now...)**_

_**And another shout out to rockforthecross74! I'm glad I turned you onto gears with this piece! Go buy the game! Seriously, it's epic!**_

_**And a huge thank you to all my glamorous readers. Hit that review button beneath my text and tell me what you liked, didn't liked, loved, or absolutely hated. Any and all reviewers get my eternal thanks, AND a preview of the next chapter! (I'm not above begging here people...)**_


	3. Up Shit Creek

Sceniu Complex.

Twelve Years Before Present Day.

_Even after the world governments have crumbled and the social infrastructure decays into anarchy, even when, after the greatest and most horrible war of all, the human race has every reason to band together in an effort to save one another from total annihilation - they don't._

-Momma talking about the separation of the 'Stranded' and the 'Cog'.

**The greasy man who smelled like the worse end of a sewage pipe grabbed the little girl's shoulder and thrust her forward roughly. "I gotta buyer for ya'," the man said greedily. "So don't pull no shit, you understand?"**

**The little girl wasn't sure if he wanted an answer or not, so she said nothing. She was six years old now, but was small for her age due to malnutrition. The filthy pair of pants she wore engulfed her emaciated body, and she had to yank them up by their torn belt loops to keep them from falling off. The man strode in front of her with big steps, that took two of her own to cover the same distance. He had instructed her to call him 'master', but she had refused to out of some shred of dignity she still possessed. The man came to an abrupt stop and she pulled up the rear behind him.**

**"Ah, Mr. Thomas," he said, though his tone implied that he knew it was false. "Here's the one I was telling you all about." He dropped his falsely sweet tone as he whipped around, searching for her. "Where are you, girl?" he growled. "Get out here so the man can see you!"**

**His theatrics were unneeded, as she was standing right behind him. Used to this sort of behavior from him, she obediently stepped forward into the gaze of her buyer. He was huge, standing half a head taller than the man she was with, and had bulging muscles that were filled with pre E-day prison tattoos. He was loaded down with guns and knives, and she could even see the bulge of a grenade beneath his leather vest. He grinned evilly, showing off his black teeth. "What's yo' name, girly?" he asked.**

**She didn't reply, and his smile faded. He looked unhappily to the man behind her. "Whatsa matter with her? She deaf or something?"**

**Her 'master' didn't hesitate to deal with her. He swung, taking a step forward to get his full weight behind the blow. His fist caught her on the side of the face, and she instinctively widened her stance to keep her balance. "The man asked you a question. Don't make him repeat it."**

**She swallowed the taste of blood in her mouth before she answered. "Bri-Brianna, sir." She was still going by the old alias. As long as she was Brianna, that meant that there was still a Sylvia out there somewhere. A Sylvia who wasn't being treated as a slave sold at auction, who wasn't running her tongue across her teeth to see if any of them had been knocked loose…a Sylvia who still had a family who loved and cared about her.**

**"She seems a little on da' skinny side, don't she?" he questioned, poking the small girl in the side.**

**"It's just the pants," he lied, "They make her seem smaller than she really is. She's my favorite, however," her 'master' said. "I've had her since I picked her up in the woods on E-day. It will take a lot for me to let her go. What do you plan to use her for?" His story was true; he had been the one to take care of her after E-day. When civilization had collapsed, so had the moral fiber of humanity. He could have been a nice guy before the locusts emerged, but now the only thing he worried about was how to survive in the coming years. Many humans who had profited over the collapse of humanity, mostly ex-prisoners, purchased young children as slaves. They didn't pay in cash, seeing as paper money was completely useless nowadays. They usually traded in weapons or food, the vast majority almost certainly stolen. What the slaves were used for was up to the slime bags that bought them. The lucky didn't go to molesters, but the sad majority did.**

**"I don't see how that's any of your damn business, now is it?" the buyer said, almost nonchalantly reaching for his knife.**

**"Right, right," the man said, following the buyer's reach for his knife with careful eyes. "Now let's talk price, shall we?"**

**They debated over how much the little girl was worth. She paid them no mind however as she hefted up her pants yet again. She stared out a hole in the wall, watching the sun sink down. The echo of gunfire could faintly be heard in the distance. She reached one hand down the neck of her t-shirt that could have served as a dress, and pulled out a dainty piece of chain. She checked to make sure nobody was watching her as she slid a broken locket around so she could stare at the smiling faces. She had already memorized each line in her mother's face, each freckle in her brother's. It was her only connection to a pre-war world. A better world.**

**She heard a gunshot behind her and she quickly hid the locket underneath her shirt before whirling around. The man who had wanted to purchase her had evidently gotten sick of haggling for a price, and had shot him instead. It wasn't anything new; dead bodies popped up all the time. He would face no charges for murder, nor would the thousands of others who had killed someone.**

**"It's your lucky day, Bri-Brianna," the man said, grabbing her skinny arm, "'Cause you get to come wit' me." He dragged her out by her arm. She glanced back behind her to the man who had rescued her, raised her, and sold her. She should have been immensely relieved to get out of his grasp, but she couldn't help the knot of fear in her stomach. One of her father's favorite sayings had been that the known devil is always better than the unknown one. She hadn't understood it at the time, but now she had a pretty clear understanding of its meaning.**

* * *

The dream snapped me out of sleep, and I instinctively drew my sidearm. After a quick evaluation of the room, I relaxed slightly. The only demons here were the ones inside my head. Sam had snapped to attention as soon as I woke up, and she was half standing, whipping her head around to assess any danger.

"It's okay, girl," I whispered, patting the side of her flank. She whined softly, but didn't relax until she had finished her own assessment. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to calm my heartbeat and drown out the last of the nightmare. I looked out my wall and saw that it was still dark; probably a few more hours until sunup. It didn't matter now; I knew I wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight.

I stayed seated for a while, reluctant to get up. Finally, as the sky began to lighten, I grabbed my pack and sniper rifle, patted my hip for Sam to follow, and headed out the door.

The sun was slowly making its' ascent into the sky as I headed over towards Jacinto's military base of operations. There had been a guard change overnight, and I didn't have to worry about Darvish giving me a hard time. It was quiet as I headed through the rubble that had once served as busy streets. I detoured over to the small but deep river that ran through the complex. It had been divided into sections, and I headed to the first section that was designated for drinking water. It ran white over the rocks, and was safe to drink. We sanctioned a few guards up river to keep it that way. Dix had issued a sanitation law after our first outbreak of dysentery. Farther down it curved upward, giving the illusion of privacy. That was where the members of the complex bathed. Women had taken to bathing together to reduce the chance of one of us being raped.

When I got to Jacinto's outer limits, I chose a spot on Jacinto's wall's that was unguarded, but gave me a clear view of any troops entering or leaving the complex. I shoved my sniper and pack onto the wall ahead of me, before grasping the ledge and pulling myself up. Sam chose a portion of the wall that had collapsed long ago, and used the uneven edges to climb up.

When Sam laid down next to me I grabbed a few ration bars and unwrapped them. They were almost positively stolen from the COG, but I tried not to let that bother me as I tore into them. Sam wolfed two down in a few bites and sniffed at me for some more. Her ears perked when I tore off part of my own.

"Okay. High five," I said, and held my other hand out for her to place her paw in. She sat up and lifted her foot for me to grab. "Good girl!" I said, and gave her the small piece of food. I patted her absentmindedly while I watched the doors. I watched the trickle of people leave and return to the building, but no sign of any squads. I stroked Sam's head automatically, with her nudging my arm with her nose every time I stopped.

Finally, a team exited the building. There were four of them, all men. Of course, that was typical since the breeding laws took effect. I motioned to Sam to stay there, before dropping down to the ground and sneaking closer to gain information about their mission, and to see if this was indeed Delta squad.

"I don't get what the hell we're supposed to be doing. 'Investigate an abandoned COG outpost'? What are we trying to find, Hoffman's hidden porn collection?" I heard one of the soldiers say. He was huge, as most gears were, with a high and tight blond haircut, partially obscured by a pair of goggles.

"C'mon, Baird baby! It ain't that bad! Maybe he'll let you take a look at 'em!" An even bigger man, with black skin, clapped him on the shoulder. 'Baird baby' jolted forward slightly from the massive weight on his shoulder, then shot the man a look. A third man, Hispanic by the looks of it, watched them with an amused expression on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go get swallowed by giant worms, cut up its three, count 'em, _three _hearts, and go on a damn treasure hunt because Hoffman says so. I swear, if all the stranded weren't complete scum, I might consider joining them sometimes."

"Don't let the door hit ya' on the way out, man," the Hispanic man said joyfully. The man who was whining shot him one of the best 'blow me' looks I've seen, and probably would have laid into him if the fourth man hadn't spoken up.

"Control, this is Delta. Where's that Centaur we were promised?" The man was big with a black do-rag covering his hair with the ends tucked under. He let his lancer hang from one hand while he held his communicator to his ear. "Alright, thanks, Anya." He dropped his hand from his ear.

The Hispanic walked up to him. "Yo Marcus, what did they say?"

He was interrupted by the sound of an engine revving close to them. They all turned and looked down the street at something that was out of my viewing range. "That answer your question?" Do-rag said, before gesturing the team down the street towards what I could only assume was the promised Centaur.

"Shotgun!" the black man called, before racing Baird down the street. I grimaced at their antics. Looks like I had my work cut out for me.

I quickly headed back to where I left Sam and hefted myself over the wall. Vehicles were the hardest to follow, and would have been practically impossible if it hadn't been for the shitty condition of the roads. I assumed that's why they wanted the Centaur tank, instead of a regular 'Dill. The Centaur was better at navigating the new world's geography, which was laden with massive emergence holes, collapsed buildings, and the shells of burnt-out cars. Great for cover, not so great for road trips.

I watched them to see what direction they were heading. Thanks to my stranded contacts, I was in the know about where to find most anything in today's new Sera. I had an idea where this 'abandoned COG outpost might be', but I was praying I was wrong. If they were heading towards the one I was thinking, it would lead them straight through the Complex.

I watched them take a left at Jacinto's gates. It meant that they were heading right towards me. They passed, and I caught another look at the squad who I now took responsibility for. About a quarter of a mile up, the took a right onto another street and out of my sight.

"Here we go," I said to Sam, before dropping off of the wall. The key to following vehicles wasn't to try and follow them directly. The best way was to watch where they were headed, and try to cut them off later on. Usually worked, but I had lost the occasional squad when I had guessed wrong as to where they were headed. Since I had a vague idea where they were going, I wasn't worried about losing Delta.

I crossed the street quickly, Sam on my heels. People living in Jacinto, gears and civilians alike, were a bit touchy about finding stranded near their city. I tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible when near here. I ducked into an abandoned building, using holes in the walls to get from place to place. Most of these were cleared out by gears, which meant I didn't have to worry about stumbling upon anyone or anything unfriendly. My rifle lay slung across my back, and my sidearm was holstered. That didn't mean I wasn't on high alert, though. I was listening for anything out of the ordinary, while also watching Sam for hints as to what might be coming.

About a mile up, I curved to the right. I was going to travel about another mile and a half, heading in a diagonal line, and see if I could meet up with Delta on another street. The farther I got from Jacinto, the more cautious I became. I slid my rifle around so the barrel was the first thing anyone would see, and I unclipped my sidearm from its holster. This area was known for unexpected locust attacks. I ducked inside another building, one that was overlooking the path I expected Delta to take, and headed up the stairs. I motioned for Sam to head out in front of me, sniffing for anything unexpected. Locust weren't always the most dangerous things out there. We called the LaMOS, or Last Man on Sera. They were stranded who hadn't joined a camp. They got it into their mind they were king of the land, and was more often a 'shoot first' type. They thought they had it pretty good nowadays, living along the filth, rats, and locust, and wasn't about to let their turf go.

They would set up landmines in certain buildings, leaving it to blow off some intruders legs. I had lost a friend like that, stumbled upon a trap that was set there by some asshole who was probably long gone. Problem was, land mines didn't work in today's warfare. The reason why they were so popular back in the good old wars was that they blew the leg off some new recruit, forcing the army to spend precious recourses to take care off them before they shipped them home, reminding mom and pop that maybe supporting this war wasn't such a good idea. I once saw a grub get caught up in one, shattering both his legs. He was yelling and grunting for one of his buddies to come help him, making a racket. Finally, another grub walked up and shot him, point blank. No remorse, no offer of help. That was the difference between Humans and Locust. We left no man behind.

The rumble of a Centaur interrupted my thoughts. I looked down my scope to see who it was.

Delta. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had chosen the right path. I relaxed, until I heard Sam's low growling next to me. I watched her, gripping my rifle tighter. "What's wrong?" I asked her, and she whined with unease. She was watching the road, her eyes pointed in the opposite direction of the tank. I pulled my rifle back up and looked out the scope for anything suspicious.

There. _Shit._ It was an ambush. There was a grub sniper laid up in another building about a quarter klick from me. I saw him signal to someone on the ground, in the direction of the Centaur. I whipped my rifle around, heart beating erratically. I saw the tip of a barrel point out between two buildings. I couldn't even distract Delta by firing on them at least not without giving away my position. I turned, threw my pack on the ground as a resting point for my rifle, and slipped into the prone position .

If I fired upon the ground squad, the sniper was sure to take me out, so I fired on the enemy sniper first. As the shot rang out, I swung the gun over to my left just in time to see all hell break loose.

Whoever was driving the Centaur slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. Locust swarmed out of the alleyway just in front of them, firing upon their vehicle. The tank's rocket system was great for taking out obstacles in the road, but it was slow to fire and ineffective against the number of grubs swarming the vehicle. Whoever was driving backed the rear of the tank against a building, allowing someone to drop out the back. He fired his gun -a lancer by the sound of it- from the protection of the Centaur. When he fell back to reload, I saw his mop of blond hair when he fell back to reload. He was followed by the big black man, who popped up on his left.

There were two grubs firing on the vehicle from the alleyway. I took out one of them, but the other disappeared from view. Someone inside the tank used a rocket to take out a car two grubs were hiding behind, and I shot another who was hiding in a doorway with no door.

The black man fell back to reload, and I watched to see if there was any grubs I could take out without making it seem too obvious. If I did my job right, no one would ever know I was here. I had found out fast that gears weren't always sufficiently thankful when you saved their life, especially if they considered you Stranded.

A flash of action out of the corner of my scope caught my eye. I raised my sight just in time to see the grub that had disappeared earlier come up behind my boys. He raised something -I was too far away to see what- and lunged towards Baird. He twisted around at the same time I pulled the trigger.

My breath seized up and my heart almost stopped. _Shoot between heartbeats. A sniper can't afford surprises. _How had I forgotten one of the cardinal rules of sniping? Especially after having it drilled into my mind so many times by an excellent teacher?

The round grazed over Baird's shoulder and made contact with the grub's chest. Baird was fine, but he whipped around looking for where the shot came from. The good news was that all the grubs were gone.

"Nice shot, asshole. Now show yourself!" he shouted, turning his head to find my hiding place. I smirked with the pleasure of having my presence known, and for getting credit for the shot. It wasn't often I got to play hero, and have somebody actually know that I was around. As long as we didn't make direct contact, I should be fine.

The black man said something to him and they got into the Centaur, albeit a bit reluctantly. They took off again, although this time they were driving a bit slower. It was almost unnecessary, because in another two klicks they'd show up at the Complex. Then they'd have an entirely new problem, but at least there would be no more grubs.

I relaxed into the filthy floor as they drove by. I caught another glimpse of them as the drove by, Baird was scowling out the window while the Latino man watched carefully for more grubs. Sam rumbled as they passed, and I patted her side.

"Good girl. Thanks for spotting the sniper for me." She gave my hand a lick before standing up and shaking herself. She headed towards the back of the room, looking down the rubble that we had used to climb up. I gave one more look towards the setting sun before getting to my knees and slinging my pack over my shoulder, getting ready to leave. If I cut through the camp, I could probably set up before Delta squad showed up at the abandoned military base.

As I stood up, the weather-worn floor started cracking beneath my feet. My eyes flew open as the floor began to give. I started forward just as my perch gave way. Sam gave a short, nervous bark and I grabbed for something to hold onto, anything to hold onto, but there was nothing. Suddenly I was falling, plunging through the air to the rubble below, about two stories down.

I slammed into the ground hard. The world spun around me as I tried to catch my breath. There was a shooting pain on my side, and I grasped at it. My eyes widened when my fingers came back slicked with blood. Sam was barking on what was left of my perch, and she was the last thing I saw before the world faded to a merciful black.

I woke some time later, but there was no way of knowing how much time had actually passed. My skull felt ready to burst, and my side was screaming obscenities at me. Sam was licking my face, and it took me a moment to muster the strength to push her away. It was dark now, which meant it was a bad idea to be stuck outside.

I slowly counted to three before attempting to sit up. My ribs felt like they were splitting apart, and I clutched at them with a low moan. I took a few deep breaths before rolling to my knees. My heartbeat pounded in my head. Sam whined nervously and I placed a hand on her back to steady myself before attempting to stand. It took three tries and a lot of cursing through clenched teeth, but I finally made it to my feet. My pack was still slung around my shoulders, so I pulled my lighter out of one of the side pockets.

I pulled my jacket and shirt up slowly and clicked open the lighter. The small flame flickered into existence, giving me the light I needed to assess my injuries. I had a gash, about four inches long, that was dripping blood. I also had some deep bruises that foretold of at least one broken rib.

I pulled the out package of jerky Momma had given me, and dumped it into my pack. I took off my coat before folding the jerky's white cloth wrapping into a small square. I pressed it to my side, wincing slightly, before tying my jacket tightly around my stomach to hold the makeshift bandage in place.

My headache had eased slightly, and I took a swig of water to help clear the fabric feeling in my mouth. Feeling more alert now, I assessed my options.

I couldn't go back to the camp. Providing they even had the medical supplies I needed, it was already night. The camp was locked down tight after sundown, as Dix had ordered.

That only left the gears I was trailing. They would have a kit onboard the Centaur. I was reluctant to steal anything from the COG, especially something that might be needed by another gear, but then I remembered the scene from earlier. Baird owed me his life. _A life for a life…_ Wasn't that what I had always been taught?

My mind made up, I headed for the abandoned COG outpost. Each step was torture, and I had to work to catch my breath, as the jacket was still cinched tight around my midsection. Sam stayed pressed to my side, a willing handhold to steady me if I needed it.

I didn't bother with keeping to back streets and alleys this time. It was too dark to see me anyway, and I had my sidearm in my hand, trigger finger at the ready.

Finally, _finally, _I could see the faint outline of a Centaur in the distance, and hear the soft murmur of voices. We were at the outpost. Ducking down, I slipped into the cover of some overgrown bushes. I crept closer until I could make out some of their conversations.

"This is so bullshit," one of the men said, and I'd bet my left hand it was Baird from before.

"Come on, man, it ain't all that bad! We got our health, our guns, and each other. Life don't get much better than that!" I heard another man say in a booming voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. And we're standing here outside a shit-hole, freezing our asses off, waiting for the two numb-nuts inside to get tired of playing hide and seek so we can quit guarding the tank that nobody here has the balls to try and take. I see how your optimism is really getting you places, I really do."

I would have laughed had I not been in so much pain. I had to crouch down to get past them and my side felt like it was on fire. I clenched my teeth against the pain and motioned for Sam to stay put. She laid down without a sound, and I cased out the Centaur.

Its' back end was facing me, and next to it were the blond and black gears I met earlier. They were standing about ten meters to the right of the Centaur, facing a dilapidated building, with their backs towards me. I crept a few meters to the left, placing the tank between me and the gears. I was about five meters from the tank before I started forward. This was the easy part; the hard part would be actually getting _into_ the tank to grab the first aid kit.

The only way into the tank was either through the gun turret or the back. I chose the back, figuring it would be easier to get in and out of without attracting attention.

I opened the rear hatch of the Centaur quietly, keeping an eye trained on the remnant of Delta squad to make sure they didn't turn around. If they did, I was toast. I climbed up onto the rear and slid my hand underneath for the kit.

The radio inside the Centaur crackled to life as my hand rested upon the cool metal box of the kit. I opened the kit and rummaged through it, pulling out a suture pack.

"We're screwed," a vaguely familiar voice said, and my head snapped up. My heart was pounding before I realized it was coming through the radio. It must have been the other pair of Delta.

"Welcome to Jamerson Depot. Proper identification is required for entry," a mechanical voice said, albeit faintly.

The radio crackled, and a gruff voice said, "You gotta be kidding me."

I ignored the rest of the conversation, focusing instead on finding some pain pills in the kit. I had just yanked the small white bottle out of the metal box when I heard, "Baird, can you get a blast charge ready?"

The answer came from the radio, and from outside. "Of course. Regular or extra strength?"

"Extra strength," the radio crackled again. "We'll recon until you're ready."

"Roger, boss man. Baird out." The radio fizzled out and hummed quietly and I heard live Baird sigh from my right. "Looks like we've got some work to do. Mind helping me with this?"

I heard footsteps approach the tank and I snapped into action. I shoved the kit back under the seat and whirled around to jump out of the tank. Unfortunately, the gear's shadow was growing larger, and before I could make a break for it I was trapped in the back of the Centaur, staring at the two gears, neither of which looked very happy.

"What the hell?" Baird said, taking a step forward. Too close.

I attacked him, leaping out in an offensive maneuver I hadn't used since living in Jacinto. The move was stupid, another reaction born of instinct and fear. And it was hopeless. He was a trained gear, not a small girl who was injured and on the verge of passing out.

And man, was he fast. I'd forgotten how fast gears could be, how they could move and strike like cobras. He knocked me off as through brushing away a fly. His hands slammed into me and sent me backwards. I don't think he meant to strike that hard—probably just intended to keep me away—but my lack of coordination interfered with my ability to respond. Unable to catch my footing, I started to fall, heading straight toward the ground at a twisted angle, hip-first. It was going to hurt. A _lot_.

Only it didn't.

Just as quickly as he blocked me, Baird reached out and caught my arm, keeping me upright. I was left hanging there, his grasp tight around my wrist. I followed his line of sight and saw he was staring at the suture pack I still had clenched in my hand; in the hand he was holding. He snatched it away from me, gave it a courtesy glance, and tossed it over to the other gear.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. A thief in the Centaur." He gave me a pleased look, having caught me red handed, before looking over his shoulder. "Hey, Cole, you wanna shoot her, or shall I?"

**Author's Note-Hello again! Thanks for reading, and thanks to Kade Riggs and Rock For The Cross for betaing this chapter.**

**Soo...what did you think? What's going to happen to our beloved hero? How is she going to talk her way out of this one? The world may never know!**

**Anything you wanna see happen? Anything your confused about? Anything you liked? Hated? Send me a review and let me know! As always, reviewers get a preview of the next chapter! **


	4. Say Hello, Kiss Your Ass Goodbye

New Hope COG Research Facility

Present Time

_No, he wasn't a monster. He was sure of that. He knew what monsters looked like now. They were gray, and they came in many hideous forms, and they delighted in the suffering of humans. And they _had_ to die, or all of humanity would be wiped out._

_-Chairman Prescott's thoughts on using the Hammer Of Dawn_

Lives were such simple, fragile things. One bullet, one snapped neck and your existence could be snuffed out forever. Death could come quickly, so quickly you never had time to embrace it or prepare yourself for it. It could come slowly, taking its sweet time and allowing you your final goodbyes. Or it could stare you right in the face, taunting you, laughing at you. Even after years of wondering how I would finally die, in a mission, in my sleep, in a locust attack…I never knew death would have such angry, blue eyes.

Baird glared at me while waiting for Cole's response. Cole said nothing. "Alright then. Guess it's up to me." My eyes widened when he yanked his sidearm out of it's holster.

Before I could react -before any of us could react- the bushes rustled and there was a flying mass of black and tan fur lunging out at us. As Baird turned the gun to aim at the new threat, I used my other hand to knock his firing arm upward, causing the shot to go wide. While he was off balance I yanked my other arm free from his grasp, but the slight victory came at a cost. The swift movement combined with my injuries caused me to lose my balance, stumbling backwards to keep from falling on my ass.

I backed into something huge, hard, and _warm._ I turned my head to see the massive wall of bulk that was Cole. I swallowed hard._ I am so screwed…_

I tensed, waiting for the blow that was sure to end my life. Cole was so big that he could probably end my life using one hand. He raised his arm over my head and I let out a small squeak of fear.

The massive weight landed around my shoulders and stayed there, my knees buckling slightly from the weight. I peeked up at him, and saw he had his arm around me. "Aw shit, c'mon Baird. She's just a little thing. Ain't gonna hurt us none."

Baird was still struggling with Sam. She had a firm grasp on the material covering his backside. Every time he tried to turn around to land a blow on her, she would turn with him, staying right on his ass. The picture would have been amusing if I wasn't scared shitless for Sam.

"Get this _thing_ off of me!" he shouted, twisting around again to try and capture Sam. She growled, not letting go of her teeth-hold on his uniform.

I whistled slightly. "Sam," I called, the weakness in my voice scaring me slightly. I hoped I wasn't going to pass out again. The adrenalin from the brief fight had dulled the pain, but now it was coming back with a vengeance. I was leaning on Cole more than I cared to admit. "C'mere Sam."

Her eyes flicked over to me, and she gave one last tug on Baird's backside before letting go and slouching over to me. She kept her eyes trained on Baird as if daring him to draw his sidearm again.

Baird glared at us, but he seemed reluctant to pull anything. I saw his eyes flick over to Sam, who was growling low in her throat. His eyes wandered over to my rifle as he deliberated. "Give me your weapons."

I hesitated a split second before reaching down and undoing the ties that held my sidearm around my leg. I threw it over to him. I reached up, slowly, and pulled my sniper's strap from around my shoulder. Cole had to move his arm to do so, and he took my gun from me.

"Anything else?" Baird asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously when I shook my head. "Check her," he said to Cole. Cole tossed the sniper over to Baird before patting me down.

I hissed in a breath when his hand patted over my injury. He looked down at my face, a worried expression on his. "What's the matter with you, baby?" he asked.

I shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. "Well, I don't steal suture packs for nothing." He watched me for a second before a decision passed over his eyes. Before I could stop him, he reached down and untied my jacket from around my waist. My jaw clenched in pain as the cool night air flowed over my fresh wound.

"Damn, baby. You don't play nice, do ya'?" he asked me, probing the gash gently with his fingers. He pulled out the suture pack Baird had tossed him earlier, before motioning for me to have a seat on the Centaur's rear fender. He yanked open the pack; the needle's small size almost comical in his massive hands. "This will sting a bit," he warned before beginning the first stitch. I clenched my fist against the sting of the needle, but refused to show any more discomfort than that. My head was spinning from the way things had changed so fast. At first I was certain I was a goner, now they were wasting a kit to clean me up. The irony was not lost on me.

Cole finished the last stitch with a flourish, examining his work proudly. He was about to say something when a sharp, anxious bark startled us both. My gaze immediately went to Baird, and my heart sank when I saw he had his gun trained on me again.

"C'mon, Baird. I thought we were over this shit," Cole said, slightly exasperated. That was fine for him. I, on the other hand, was having trouble breathing as fear caused my throat to seize up. _He knows…_

"Uh-huh. That was before I knew her Longshot was COG issued. Tell me, how'd you manage to get close enough to Ace to kill him and take his rifle?" he asked, face contorted in a rage.

"Say what? Ace was killed years ago, in that Locust attack," Cole said, a bit of doubt coloring his booming voice.

Baird snorted, keeping his eyes and gun trained on me. "Yeah, that's what the official reports say. Doesn't explain how she got a hold of his sniper, though." He tossed the gun over to Cole who caught it automatically. "Check the butt stock."

I didn't have to check. I knew what Cole would find there. A pair of aces, painstakingly carved into the paint. I heard Cole's sigh and immediately knew he had seen them. "Damn, baby. Just when I was starting to like you…"

I knew I had one chance to talk myself out of this. "Wait. It's not what it looks like. I knew Ace, back before he died. He gave me this rifle." Baird snorted disbelievingly, and my next words had a taint of desperation in them. "I can prove it. His partner was named Rick, nicknamed 'the Dragon' because he smoked a lot. Rick was killed on E-day, and Ace was never assigned another partner. He was twenty-two when he died, had black hair, and he was a huge Thrashball fan." I searched for something else, anything that would prove I knew Ace. "He was an excellent soldier, and an even better friend. I was there when he died."

Baird was watching me suspiciously, but he dropped the barrel of his gun fractionally. Something hardened in his eyes, and he sneered at me angrily. "Yeah, right. Ace wouldn't hang around with a piece of Stranded shit like you."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Now that the fear had abated -somewhat - irritation was quickly taking it's place. "I wasn't Stranded. Not back then. I was there when Ace died, and he gave his gun to me. End of story."

"Why would he give his gun to you?" I understood his reason for asking his question. A gun was a gear's lifeline, his sense of security. Giving that away was a huge gesture, even when one knew he was dying.

I thought about how to answer his question. It was a mistake that I was there when Ace died, one that had been left out of the 'official statements'. Should I tell him why I was there? And betray my only mentor's trust? Ace had been so much more than a teacher though. He had been a friend. Someone I trusted, and I didn't trust easily.

I sighed. "Look, nothing I say is going to convince you. You either believe me, or you don't. Shoot me, or let me go. Your choice." It was a gamble, and a risky one at that. The tension increased, and Sam let out a low growl as if warning Baird to make the right decision.

"C'mon, Baird. Women are the future, not cannon fodder. She had to know Ace to know all that stuff about him," Cole said, coming to my rescue. I tried to ignore the 'women are the future' political lie that had to have been fed to him by Prescott.

Baird gave me one last, distrustful look. "Whatever…" he groused, before holstering his sidearm. His Lancer still dangled ominously from one hand.

I looked between them awkwardly. "So…I guess I'll go then." I stood up, wobbling on my feet. After sitting so long the sudden rush of blood to my brain, combined with my concussion, caused me to lose my balance.

"Whoa there, baby. You ain't going anywhere." Cole caught me with one hand and eased me back to a sitting position.

I blew out a breath while waiting for the world to stop spinning. Cole watched me anxiously for a moment before turning his attention to Sam. "Who's this?" he asked, holding out a hand for her to sniff. Sam snapped at him, and he withdrew his hand. "Damn…" he said, eying her bared teeth.

"That's Sam. She doesn't like strangers much." I told him, slightly pleased at Sam's protection. "It's okay Sam. Shake."

She eyed him cautiously before lifting her paw for Cole to grasp. Cole's booming laughter filled the air. "Now that's more like it!" he exclaimed, reaching down to pat Sam's side. Sam wagged her tail and licked his hand fervently. I cracked a smile in spite of myself. That's what I loved about her; that she was willing to tear someone's head off in my name, and in the next second she was best friends with them.

Baird reached past us into the Centaur, taking care not to come too close to me. He pulled out some equipment, and, sending a disgusted look my way, wandered over to start work on his project. I watched him warily for a moment, but after a while he seemed to forget about us.

Cole interrupted my thoughts. "Don't believe you told me your name, sweetheart."

"Call me Bri," I said automatically. "So you're Cole, and he's Baird?"

He nodded. "Yep. Don't mind Baird. He's always a little jumpy around strangers." He winked at me, "'Specially attractive ones."

I froze, my hand unconsciously reaching for my sidearm that was no longer there. He followed my reach with his eyes, and gave a slight chuckle. "Guess you'll be wanting your guns back now." He trained his eyes on Baird, and ever so obviously handed me back my sniper. Baird ignored us, but I knew instinctively that he was still watching. Cole cleared his throat, loudly, and Baird sighed. He tossed over my pistol and holster without looking at us. "He does know how to treat a woman!" Cole exclaimed, still in that booming voice. "Whatcha doing over there anyway? Need help?"

Baird sighed, and I could see him deliberate over whether or not to answer, and finally he sighed. "Nope. Creating a blast charge is high school chemistry. Creating a blasting cap to go off on _time_, however, is high art." He paused, meddling with a pair of wires. "Good thing I'm excellent at both."

I gave him a curious look, wondering if he was serious or not. I figured it didn't matter, because if he screwed it up, I wouldn't be around to care. However, Cole seemed to trust him, and he wasn't worried about the _bomb_ blowing up in our face. Rather, he was patting Sam's side absentmindedly. She wasn't paying attention to him, choosing instead to watch Baird with cool, untrusting eyes.

Cole sat on the rear of the Centaur with me, making the tires deflate some. I watched him cautiously, uneasy about the superfluous way he treated me. Of course, he probably wasn't afraid of anything. Well…maybe that wasn't true. Everyone was afraid of the Locust, at least on some level. "So," he said, watching me out of the corner of his eyes. "Got anything you wanna talk about?"

I shook my head once. I stayed silent, wondering where he was planning on taking this. He paused, waiting for me to say something. When it became apparent that I wasn't, he continued talking as if nothing had happened. "That's alright. Mamma always said I talked to much. You got any family, someone who's gonna be expecting you home tonight?"

I shook my head again. The camp wasn't exactly family, and nobody would care if I didn't show. Well, maybe Momma, but she was different. She cared about everyone. "Shame," Cole murmured, the quietest I've heard him. "Damn shame."

Baird interrupted us unintentionally. "Marcus, it's Baird. I got your blast charge ready."

The reply crackled through the tank's radio system, making me jump slightly. "Roger that. We'll be out in a few."

I heard Baird sigh before looking at me. "Yeah…there's been a slight change in plans."

"Whaddya mean?" came the reply, but I knew exactly what he meant.

"Cole picked up a stray dog. Seems harmless, but I wanna know what you think, boss." Cole shot me a wink before pressing his finger to his ear. "Yep, there's a dog here all right. But Baird also forgot to mention the Stranded girl."

I gulped in the crackling silence that ensued. Finally, the gruff voice said "Stranded girl?" His tone was different now, quieter, more menacing.

There was a crackle, then a different voice said, "Cole? Is it-"

He drifted off, and Cole examined my face sadly. "Nah, sorry Dom. It's not Maria."

I heard someone sigh, then the same voice said, "That's alright. Too much to hope for."

"We'll see you in a minute," Marcus repeated, then cut the line. I was left wondering who in the world Maria was.

Cole nudged me with his elbow, causing a fresh wave of pain to shoot through my body. He didn't seem to notice. "Don't worry, baby. Dom's always jumping at straws. He won't hold it against you."

I nodded, only slightly relieved. He might not hold the fact that I wasn't Maria against me, but there was still the slight problem of me being Stranded.

We sat there in silence; even Cole had given up the pretense of conversation. Baird stayed by the bomb, throwing caustic glares my way every few moments. A clap of thunder sounded, and I stifled a groan. I hated rain; it made regular shots almost impossible and reduced visibility to almost zero. I didn't dare move, even when the rain started and drenched us with what seemed like buckets of cold water. Sam whined, also miserable. The two gears didn't seem to mind much, after all, they had full body armor to protect them. I was soon soaked to the skin, even with the small amount of shelter the Centaur provided.

About ten minutes later, I heard footsteps approach from behind us. Loath to let a potential enemy sneak up on me, I stood with Cole.

"Yo, what's the word?" Cole asked, holding his arms out wide. I stayed hidden behind the Centaur, watching the squad with careful, observing eyes. Sam stayed next to me, crouched and ready to attack if the need arose.

"Some kind of security door we need to bypass," a man said, and I recognized his black do-rag from earlier. His voice was low and gravelly, like scraping metal boots against pavement.

"Bypass?" Cole said, humor evident in his loud tone, "You mean blow that shit up!" He laughed, motioning towards the bomb Baird had made.

"Exactly," Do-rag said, before nodding towards Baird in an unspoken question.

"It's all ready, Marcus," Baird said. "Just make sure you get your ass outside the blast radius, and whatever you do, don't drop the thing," he added in a stark tone.

"Hey man," the Latino man said, speaking up for the first time. "Where's this 'stray dog' of yours?"

I took a breath and wandered out to where they could see me. "Right here."

The man apparently named Dom wandered closer. "Sup?" he said to me in greeting, giving me a courtesy glance before turning to Cole. "How'd she get here?"

Cole shrugged his massive shoulders. "Not sure how she got here. Found her coming out of the Centaur with a suture pack. Checked her out and she was injured." He paused, "She seems to be a little out of it. I'd hate to have it on my conscience if she died when we could have helped her."

Wow. Guilt trip much? Baird snorted then turned to Marcus. "Cole's fascinated with her dog. I for one ain't much for taking on freeloaders in the middle of the mission. What do you think, Marcus? Marcus?"

But Marcus didn't appear to be listening. He was staring at me, eyes opened wide. His eyebrows were knitted together and he had a stupefied look on his face. I cocked an eyebrow his way, wondering what was up. I had the spooky feeling he knew me from somewhere, although his scarred face triggered nothing in my memory. I cleared my throat awkwardly when the staring became uncomfortable.

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in. "Huh?" he said to Baird, not taking his eyes off of me. He blinked a couple times in rapid succession, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"This weather's not getting any better, boss man," Cole said, although he had a perplexed look on his face. He looked at me, as if I had any answers on why Marcus had taken such an interest in me. "Yeah…" Marcus said, letting the word trail off into nothingness. He gazed at me one more time before mentally shaking himself from the stupor he was in. He looked at Cole. "Gotcha," he said, grabbing one side of the bomb and motioning for Dom to grab the other. "We'll let you know how it goes," he said to Baird.

"Oh, we'll know," Baird said, backing away from the bomb.

Dom grabbed the other side of the bomb after throwing one last curious look my way. His glance reminded Baird of something.

"Hey, wait! What do you want us to do with Miss Freeloader here?" he called over to Marcus.

Marcus called his answer over her shoulder. "Make sure you keep her around. We could always use an extra gun, and the less people she can tell about this place, the better. Remember, this is still a top-secret mission."

"Yeah, extra guns are always nice…until they shoot you in the back," Baird grumbled, just loud enough for me to hear it. I paid him no mind, focusing instead on the retreating form of the two gears. Marcus's behavior still puzzled me.

_I wonder what he saw in me…_

**A/N- And so the plot thickens! As always, special shoutouts to my beta's, rockforthecross74 and Kade Riggs. Check their stuff out, I'm betaing it also and it's crazy good! :D**

**So...What did you think? Will Baird ever come around? Who's this mysterious 'Ace'? Will Dom hold the fact that Bri is Stranded against her? And how does Marcus recognize her? Review and tell me what you think!**

**As always, reviewers get a preview of the next chapter, and get on Sam's good side! (Seriously, do you want a huge, protective, German Sheppard out to get you?)**


	5. Explosions, Guns, and Broccoli

New Hope Cog Research Facility

Present Time

_I refuse to tolerate no-go areas for COG citizens in COG sovereign territory. We are either Citizens or Stranded-there is no middle ground. _

_-Chairman Richard Prescott, responding to the discussion of the separation of humanity._

"Marcus, this is Baird. Weather's gone to shit, feels like razor hail's on the way. If this keeps up, we'll have to head inside." Baird was right; the light rain had increased exponentially, until it was dumping buckets. Sam and I were soaked to the bone, and the rain had even gotten through Cole and Baird's thick armor.

Marcus's gravelly voice came through the radio. "Alright, get out of the storm. We'll get back there as soon as we can."

"Wilco. Baird out." Baird dropped his hand from his communicator and placed it back on his lancer. "You heard the man. Let's get out of here."

I wasn't about to complain. The rain had kept up for about an hour, and I didn't know what was worse; the stinging rain or the awkward silence. Baird had periodically shot me death glares, while Cole hummed something under his breath, seemingly oblivious to the tense situation. Even Sam had given up, leaving my side to go lay down under the Centaur in hopes of staying dry. Hadn't worked much; the amount of the rain formed a small river that ran beneath our boots. As we stood up to go, the smell of wet dog plagued us.

"Field trip!" Cole called out. Even the shitty weather couldn't damper his spirits. I tagged along slightly behind the two, not sure if I was supposed to come along. Cole answered my unspoken question when he patted his hip, signaling Sam to join him.

The facility was dark and smelled musty, with the coppery tinge of blood in the air. I pulled my pistol; my sniper was no good for close quarter fights. Something about the place had me on edge, and it wasn't just the wretches corpse's littering the ground. Something was off about this place.

"Damn…this place is giving me the heebie-jeebies," Cole said, lowering his voice to a dull thunder. He finished his sentence just as the door clanged shut behind us, plunging us into darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of their armor, which wasn't enough to see by.

"Yeah…cause that's not ominous…" I murmured to myself. I snapped my fingers and relaxed fractionally when I felt Sam's wet fur brush up against my side.

I heard Baird clear his throat from somewhere to my right. "Alright, I guess it's safe to say we ain't going out that way. Let's see if we can find somewhere with some light."

"Whats the matter, Baby? You afraid of the dark?" Cole said.

"No, I'm afraid of what's _in_ the dark." Baird sighed, "Let's just get out of here."

They started blindly forward, and I followed their footsteps in the dark. I reached the opposite wall and felt for a door. My fingers ran across a switch, and I pulled on it. I heard the scraping of a door just to my left.

"Over here," I called, unnecessarily as the open door left a beacon of light. We filed through, checking out the next room for hostiles.

The room was filled with large tanks. Tubes and wires criss-crossed between them, forming a maze in the center of the room. A few had lights on top of them, glowing a dull red. I ventured too close to one and something thrashed around inside the tank. I backed away, uttering a low curse. "What is this place?" I asked to no one in particular.

"Beats me," Cole said, examining some papers that were left scattered on the floor.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass reverberated throughout the room. "We've got company!" yelled Baird, and he open fired on something that was out of my view point.

The tank next to me crashed open, revealing another sort of monster. It looked like a grub, but different. It had ropes of flesh hanging off its body, and a thick neck that transformed into its chinless head. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, but that didn't stop me from pumping it full of lead.

I fell back to reload. I dropped the mag the same time I heard a roar from my right. The fresh clip slid home as I peered out to assess the danger. There was another of those _things_ mere feet from me. I raised my pistol to shoot it, panic bubbling up in my gut. My mind screamed at me to run like hell, and only Ace's training forced me to stay put. I squeezed the trigger just as a chainsaw bayonet protruded through its chest. When it fell to the floor, dead, I saw Baird standing behind it, lancer raised.

Another enemy appeared behind Baird, and he spun around to face it. Just like before, I shot it around Baird, the round just grazing past his shoulder. He shot me a stunned look, finally realizing who his 'mystery sniper' was. I gave him a small smirk, holding his gaze, until a burst of fire grabbed our attention.

We cleared the room quickly and efficiently, the coppery scent of blood filling the air. Cole let out a low whistle as he assessed the carnage. "Damn…we make friends everywhere we go!" he chuckled, turning to assess me. "You're good with that pistol, but we'll have to drag out something with a bit more firepower if you plan on sticking around." Something occurred to him, and he furrowed his eyebrows, "Where'd you learn to shoot like that anyway?"

I shook my head, my eyes still darting around the room, looking for enemies. "Long story, and this isn't the place for it. I'll tell you later, if you really wanna know."

He nodded, accepting my answer- for now, at least. Baird narrowed his eyes, and I guessed that he wasn't thrilled at the idea of me getting more 'firepower'.

"Let's go," he said, starting off in a random direction. "We need to find a way back to the Centaur."

The outpost was one of the creepiest and downright deadly places I had ever been. Those _things-_ Sires, by what Marcus said- were stuffed into tubes everywhere, and there was no telling when they would jump out and try to tear your head off. The worst part was when they came up behind you, the only warning the soft sound of wet feet on the dirty floor; and maybe a growl if you were lucky. It looked like a science outpost, with computers and data sheets everywhere. The ones that weren't decrepit beyond recognition made no sense to me.

Baird, on the other hand, looked the happiest I'd seen him. His eyes greedily absorbed the scant amount of data the scattered papers provided, and he actually smiled when he saw a computer that was still reasonably functional. I decided I liked this Baird better than the one I had met outside, the one who scowled and pointed guns at me.

"Anything useful?" Cole asked Baird, scanning the scant amount of paper work with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

Baird didn't even look up. "Plenty. But none of it is making sense. If this is true then…" he drifted off, losing himself in another file. I cocked an eyebrow at him, but didn't question it.

While he geeked over the musty paper, I cased out the place, looking for an escape option. When the razor hail died down, we would need a way to get back to the Centaur. This place was heavy on the security and was set up to keep people out, but that didn't mean finding an exit was easy. Windows were almost nonexistent, and the ones I did see were impossible to reach. It was an escape artist's nightmare.

I tried another door and found it locked. This irritated me to no end. I turned around, and saw Baird still hunched over those files. "Shouldn't we be looking for a way out?" I snapped at him.

He cut his gaze to me and growled quietly. "First day on the job and you're already calling the shots?" But he folded up the papers, stuck them in his armor, and got ready to move out. He checked the windows as a viable option, then dismissed them in the same breath. With full armor, there was no way the two gears were getting through there. I could've, but I doubted Baird was going to let me out of his sight anytime soon, not that I would even think about leaving the two gears. He marched over to the door I had just tried. "It's lock-" I started, but he ignored me and hefted his boot into it. The door swung open, the locks broken. I shrugged slightly. "That works too…"

We marched through it into another similar room, with a slight light streaming through from the windows. I looked, and saw that the hail was still coming down hard.

"Well, let me see," Baird said, looking around the room and noting the obvious lack of exits. "We've got slow death, quick death, painful death, cold, lonely death…" he prattled off. I ignored him, and investigated one of the windows.

"Hey, Cole," I called, "Come over here and look at this." He obeyed, adding his armor light to what I was looking at.

"Whatcha need, little sister?" he asked. I blinked once at the unexpected nickname, but didn't mention it.

Through the grime on the window and the shitty weather, I could just make out the outline of the Centaur. It looked like it was taking a beating. "You think that thing will still work, even when we do get out of here?"

"Even if it don't, we'll fix it up." Cole said, not looking the least bit worried, which worried me. It was a long walk back to Jacinto. I supposed I could probably take them to the camp, but I wasn't sure how well that would go down.

I gave the Centaur one last mournful look, sighing as I noted the ever-present amount of hail. "You sure? That thing looks next to impossible to clean up right now."

Baird scoffed behind us. "I realize you haven't known us long, but I'm Damon Baird. 'Difficult' takes a few seconds. "Impossible', a few minutes."

I cocked an eyebrow that he didn't see. "And humility is just another service you provide, am I right?" He scoffed, but didn't answer. Neither did Cole, which was surprising. I looked at him, and saw he was examining the window sill closely.

"Hey, Baird baby," he called over his shoulder. "Any chance of blowing this wall?"

I moved out of the way as his heavy boot falls got closer. He examined the wall, checking for support beams in the wall by knocking on it. Not finding any, he pushed on it to see how structurally sound it was.

"Maybe. I'd need a few minutes to create another blast charge…you got any 'nades on ya'?" Cole grabbed a few off of his belt and handed them to him. Baird got to work, collecting a few things from around the room. Cole stood back, content to watch him work his magic.

I, on the other hand, didn't have as much faith in Baird as Cole did. I eyed him warily as he started to pull the grenades apart. "You sure this will work?" I asked him.

"I don't know if you noticed or not, but I'm an arrogant asshole who tends to think all of his plans will work," he paused, "At least, when I don't have an annoying know-it-all standing over my shoulder and second guessing everything I do."

I narrowed my eyes at the jab, but didn't say anything. I fell back to the edge of the room, keeping Sam by my side. It was a pointless gesture; if Baird fucked it up, there was nowhere in the room that would be safe.

"Alright then," he said after a while. "That ought to do it." He stood up and gently placed the small package under the window. He motioned us back into the other room, while he unwound the fuse he had pulled from his pack.

"Get ready," Baird said, crouching down. Cole chuckled slightly, as if he couldn't imagine doing anything better than spending his afternoon blowing holes in walls. Baird lit the det cord. There was a sizzle, a flash…and then a thunderous _boom_ that sent flecks of rubble tumbling down from the ceiling. A dust cloud billowed in through the open doorway, engulfing the room we were in.

"Well, let's go see our new door, shall we?" Cole said, standing up. I followed him, gingerly stepping over the mounds of blown drywall and just-settled dust.

The effect was impressive, I'd have to give Baird that. The blast wasn't big enough to blow the whole wall, just the bit under the window. Speaking of which, the window was now reduced to glittering shards, scattered around the room and on the pavement outside. The effect was one new door, just tall enough for me to fit through easily, but Baird and Cole would have to duck.

"Well, well. Look's like somebody does know what they're doing," Baird said sarcastically, coming up behind me. I rolled my eyes.

"Fair enough," I said, "Kindly blow it out your ass."

Cole laughed, grinning at Baird. "I like her. Let's ask mom and dad if we can keep it." I kinda figured 'mom and dad' would be Dom and Marcus. I pondered over his statement while we watched the hail and rain fall down in silence. How long would I be staying with Delta, anyway?

We spent the next half hour alternating between trading sarcastic remarks and silence. The razor hail died down, finally, and we made our way back to the Centaur.

"Marcus, come in. What's your ETA?" Baird said, pressing his finger to his communicator. There was a pause while Marcus answered, and then he continued. "Yeah, it's just you guys left," Baird said, talking about the Sires. "I got six. The girl got…"

He trailed off, looking at me questioningly. "I got eight," I said simply.

Baird gave me a curt nod. "Right, well, I got nine, Bri got eight, and Cole got the rest."

"Will do. See you assholes in a few." Baird signed off, and whistled when he saw the damage done to the tank. "Damn, I dunno if I can fix this thing…"

"Sure you can," I said, examining something that had been ripped open by the razor hail and was now a labyrinth of tangled wires.

He glared at me. "Oh yeah? Who told you that?"

"You did. On several occasions," I snapped back without missing a beat. Cole roared with laughter behind us.

"She's got you pegged, man," Cole laughed lightheartedly. He didn't seem to note the murderous look Baird gave me, or he just didn't think Baird would do anything about it. Baird climbed on top of the Centaur, grumbling low under his breath. He pulled out his tools and set to work, just as the outline of two hulking gears appeared in the distance, coming around the other side of the building.

"Baird," Marcus called, getting down to business. "What's the status on the Centaur?"

"Minor damage. I'll have it repaired in a minute." I rolled my eyes at Baird's reply. Apparently, he was one to build up the complexity of a task just to make himself come off as a miracle worker when he accomplished it.

The quick gust of wind, followed by a nearby roar, spiked the already over-flowing amount of adrenalin in my veins. I turned and searched the skies, seeing the dark shadows race toward us.

"Reavers!" Dom yelled, affirming what I'd already seen. A reaver was a large flying creature used by the locust as a gunship and a transport. They were ugly bastards, and capable of carrying two regular old grubs as riders. Their four long legs slammed into the ground hard, and suddenly the world was filled with gunfire.

I took cover behind the wheel of the Centaur, aiming at the riders with my pistol. A part of me was filled with unease as to how much ammo I was actually spending- and how in the world I was going to replenish it. It had been a long time since I'd been on an ordinance run for the complex; which became painfully evident when I reached into my pack to pull out a fresh clip, only to feel all of them empty."Shit…" I said, still rooting around hopelessly in my pack. I usually kept them tucked into assigned pockets for easy reach, but I was halfway hoping one might have fallen out. When I came up empty handed, I thought about using my longshot, which wasn't the best option, but I was out of choices.

When I pulled the strap from around my shoulders, another pistol entered my field of view. Marcus was holding it out to me, firing his lancer one-handed. I spared him a quick glance before grabbing the gun from him and shooting.

"Got it!" Baird called down to us, just as another pair of reavers landed behind us. "We're good to go."

"Move it!" Marcus called, grabbing hold of the side of the tank while firing at the reavers with his free hand. Everyone copied his action, and I ended up next to Dom, holding on to some kind of armor plating. Baird stepped on the gas just as I heard my borrowed gun go _click._ I stuffed it into my pack to hold on with both hands, glancing down to see Sam running alongside the Centaur, with no visible wounds. I breathed a sigh of relief. _Not bad for the first day on the job…_

* * *

"C'mon," Dom said, "Let's get you checked out by the Doc." We had gone back to Jacinto, riding inside when Baird finally stopped to let us in. I had held my breath as we passed the road to the complex, but they didn't even slow as we passed by. Along the way, Cole had filled Dom and Marcus in on exactly why I was in the tank, and as soon as we got back to base, Dom insisted on taking me to the clinic. I followed along close behind him, ignoring the glares and stunned looks by some of the other gears.

We reached the clinic, which was mostly empty. There was a man with a gun shot wound in his shoulder, sleeping soundly, and a woman, with the whitest coat I've seen, tending over Higgins. He was awake, and sitting up. He smiled at the doc… until he caught sight of us. He glared.

"What the hell is Stranded doing-" he started, but a stern look from the Doc shut him up.

"Hello, Dom," she said, placing her hands in her coat pocket. "What can I do for you?"

He gestured to me with one hand. "She's got a bad gash in her side, think you can check it out?"

She turned her steel-gray eyes to me. "Of course. Come with me." She whirled on her heels, expecting me to follow. Dom gave me a quiet "See you later" before turning around and exiting.

"I don't have all day!" she snapped from the next room, and the order in her voice sent me and Sam scurrying after her. She gave a disapproving look to Sam. "I assume your _dog_ won't be a problem?"

"I couldn't get her to leave if I tried." I said, and she gave a slow nod to Sam. Sam watched her, and then laid down out of the way, responding to her unspoken command.

"So. Want to tell me where you're hurt?" She asked, rubbing her hands down at a nearby sink.

"I'm not really hurt. This is all a big misunderstanding. I'll go," I started to get off the exam table, but the look she gave me cut me off.

She strode back over to me, pushing my shoulder to get me back up on the table. "You'll do no such thing. You're stuck here until I release you for active duty."

That's where I had her. "But I'm not a gear. You don't have any authority over me."

"I don't care if you're a gear, citizen, or stranded. You are my patient, and you are in my care. Is that understood?" Something in her tone made me want to snap off a salute, but I settled for giving her a disgruntled look.

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, climbing back onto the table with some difficulty.

She observed this with a self satisfied look. "Good. Now, where's this gash of yours?" I rolled my eyes before lifting up my shirt, revealing my stitches.

She probed them gently with her bare hands, as gloves had become a rare delicacy. She observed them with critical eyes, before saying, "Did you do these yourself?"

I shook my head. "No. Cole did them."

"Of course. That explains it." The corners of her lips twitched, as if she was thinking about smiling. She struck me as the kind of person who didn't have a lot to smile about.

She pulled out a pair of scissors and a fresh suture pack. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Call me Bri," I said. When she went to cut my stitches, I pulled away from her. "It's okay. They're not that bad. You don't have to waste another pack on me."

She gave me an appraising look. "Okay…and did you happen to clean the wound before you let Cole stitch you up?"

"Uh…no…" I said hesitantly. By the look on her face, she had already known that.

"I see," she said, "Now sit there, shut up, and let me do my job." She steadily unclipped and removed all the stitches, before flushing the wound with a saline solution. She rubbed the skin around the wound with an antibacterial ointment, before finally beginning to stitch.

"So, how did you manage to do this? Doesn't look like a bullet wound, or a knife wound," she asked, tying up another stitch.

"I fell," I answered simply.

Her eyes flickered up to me, disbelieving. "Uh-huh…" she said with her eyebrows raised.

"From three stories up, into a pile of rubble," I said, which got a smile out of her.

"That would do it," she said while finished the eighteenth and final stitch. She laid her tools down on the table beside me. "When you fell, did you hit your head?"

I nodded. "I assume so. I was knocked unconscious for awhile."

"For how long?" she asked, eyes serious again.

I had to think about it. "I'm not sure. When I fell, it was close to sundown, and when I woke up it was dark." While I talked, she pulled out a small pen-light, and shone it into my eyes. Before she could answer, Dom walked into the room.

"What's up, Doc?" he asked with a chuckle. "How's our patient?"

"I stitched her up, again, but she has a possible concussion. Keep an eye on her tonight, and wake her up every few hours."

"Will do," Dom said to her, before looking at me. "C'mon. The guys are already in the cafeteria, and I'm starving."

I nodded to him and slid off the table, clicking my fingers for Sam to follow. Before we got to the door, Doc called out to me. "Hey, tell Cole that stitches are supposed to go in a _straight_ line."

"Will do," I said with a small laugh, before following Dom out the door.

I stuck close behind Dom, trying to blend into the wall. I paused at the entrance of the cafeteria, and Dom noticed. "Yo, you coming?"

I watched a man walk past us, glaring at me. A few people stopped and stared outright, and whispers flew throughout the room.

"In a minute," I said hesitantly. "Bathroom?"

He nodded at me, as if he understood why I was reluctant to walk into the room. "We passed 'em on our way in. Go back into this hallway, fourth door on the left."

I nodded, not telling him that I didn't need his directions. Sam was sniffing the air hungrily, and I had to call her twice before she turned around and followed me, albeit reluctantly. I turned into the right room, breathing a sigh of relief when I found it empty. Sam headed over to an empty stall, and I hastily called her back. I could already hear the ribbing I'd get if someone came in and found my dog drinking out of the toilet.

I strode over to the sinks, placing one hand over the drain. I let the cool water run for a second, just enough to cover my hand, before I turned the faucet off. Running water was such a luxury, compared to bathing in a river, and I didn't want to take advantage of it. I did my best to scrub the dirt, dust, and blood off of my hands. I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I looked at myself, stunned.

It had been a while since I had seen myself in any reflective material worth looking into. Despite the hairline crack around the edge and the layer of grime covering it, I could see myself pretty clearly, although I almost didn't recognize myself.

When I first left Jacinto, it had been after living five years in good company, with good food and rations. Now I was skinnier than I cared to think about, and my skin was pocketed with scars. Some of the traits I recognized were still there. The dark brown curly hair, ragged from haircuts with a field knife. The slightly crooked nose from a fight long lost. The dark brown, almost black eyes, although they were more shadowed and haunted then I remembered. I rubbed my wet hands over my face, trying to clear away some of the grime that covered it. "You look like shit, girl," I said to my reflection, giving it one last once-over before turning on my heels and heading out the door.

Dom was standing there, waiting for me, when I got out. He gave me a glance over. "You okay? You were in there a while."

"I'm fine," I said, none of the usual bite in my tone. Something about Dom put me at ease, which worried me. I didn't know him, and if I wasn't on guard twenty-four-seven, I'd most likely end up getting burned. He started walking towards the cafeteria, and I balked. "You know, I'm not really that hungry, maybe I'll just-"

"No," he said, a little anger darkening his brown eyes. "Heaven only knows the last time you had a decent meal in you. The stuff here ain't the best, but it'll keep you full."

I glared at him. "Alright, _Mom,_" I snapped, but he just grinned at me. The line Cole gave earlier about Marcus and Dom being 'Mom and Dad' of the squad made sense to me now.

Dom fell out as we entered the cafeteria, heading over to the table Delta squad claimed as their own. Sam pressed to my side, sensing I was uneasy, and I curled my fingers in her long fur for comfort. I hated feeling out of place, and I glared at a couple gears who were staring my way.

"You looking to start something?" I snapped at them, the contempt in my voice thick enough to send a brumack running to his momma. They didn't answer, and I moved to stand in line for chow.

I could hear the countless whispers or the gears, some louder than most.

"What's _she_ doing here?"

"I dunno. If Fenix thinks she's okay, shouldn't we give her a chance?:

"Figures. Delta squad disobeying orders, _again_. I wonder when Hoffman's just going to place the lot of them on a charge."

"Look there. Up for some target practice?"

I felt an almost over-powering wave of nostalgia, being back in this place, despite the hostile welcome. I had spent countless hours hanging around here when I was younger with Ace and a few of the other guys. The memories made my eyes prickle, but I refused to let them fall. _I don't cry_, I reminded myself. It was just a pointless show to get empathy, which I didn't need. I didn't need anything, or anybody. Ace's death showed me that.

I grabbed a tray and moved forward, meeting the cook's glare with one of my own. He slopped something on my plate, and I tried to ignore the fact that it was a fraction of what other people would get. I spun on my heel and headed for the table Delta was at.

Baird was griping about something as I approached, but he fell silent when my tray hit the table. Nobody seemed too broken up about this. I immediately cut my piece of gravy-covered mystery meat in half, sending the larger portion down to be wolfed up by Sam. When I looked up, two other halves had been mysteriously placed onto my plate, and Dom and Marcus were both tucking into their meals innocently. Too innocently.

"Really, guys?" I asked, stabbing one of the slices. Dom just was annoying, but Marcus confused me. Why would he care if I got enough to eat?

I went to place the slice back on Marcus's plate, but he intercepted me midair with his knife. I met his gaze and he raised an eyebrow slightly, making me realize he wasn't above food fighting at the table. I rolled my eyes, and dropped another piece down to Sam, who lapped it up greedily.

Ignoring the unwelcome pieces of meat, I stabbed a small green stalk on my plate. "What's this stuff?"

"It's called broccoli," Dom answered my question. "Try it, it's good for you."

Hesitantly, I stuffed the small tree into my mouth, and promptly gagged. "Oh, dear god. It's _horrid._"

Cole boomed out laughing. "That's what I keep trying to tell these people! That ain't fit for human consumption!"

Baird piped up, "Really? I'd figure you Stranded would have to eat a bunch of nasty shit." There was malice in his tone, and I eyed him cautiously.

Dom just shook his head, coming to my rescue and filling the awkward silence. "You two are just like my daughter. She'd rather sit at the table all night than eat a forkful of broccoli."

"I don't blame her," I said, examining another piece I had speared on a fork. I tossed it down to Sam, wondering if she'd eat it or not. She sniffed it, then backed away from it and giving me a look, wondering why I was trying to poison her.

The guys took in her reaction, Cole still chuckling. I looked at their plates, and noticed Cole hadn't even touched his, but Marcus was busy finishing off the last bites of his.

"You ever have anybody try to force you to eat this shit, before?" Cole asked me, evidently trying to get a feel for my back-story.

"Nope," I said, trying another piece of broccoli and shuddering at the taste. "At least, not that I remember."

Marcus perked up at this, fixing me with a stare that seemed to see right through me. "You don't remember?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "No…I was really young on E-day. Both my parents died that day, or at least I never saw either of them again. I don't even remember their names."

Marcus just nodded slowly, as if I had just confirmed something for him, something that wasn't altogether pleasant.

Cole observed this with a halfway amused smile on his face. He chuckled, before saying,

"Hey, lil sis, you never did say where you're from."

My gaze flickered over to him. "How far back do you wanna go?"

"As far back as we need to," he said, but there was nothing but curiosity and amusement in his tone. I was entertainment to these men, nothing more.

"Well, I used to live on base, if that's what you're asking." This caught Dom's attention.

"Really?" he asked. "Then how did you…"

He trailed off, but I caught the edge of his question. Why did I become Stranded? "Because of the breeding laws. I was set to be a gear, but when I went to enlist, all they saw was a walking baby-machine. I had ten days to register someone as my 'baby daddy' or they threatened to throw me in a farm. I split after that."

Dom nodded, pondering it over. Baird scoffed, "Yeah, right. As if any man or women would ever willingly become Stranded. A more likely story is that you got kicked out."

"Alright, _asshole," _I finally snapped at Baird. "Let's say our roles were reversed. I'm the big, burly gear with the smart mouth, and you're the teenage girl with the choice of getting locked up until you squeeze out the legally mandated number of kids, or getting the hell out. What would you do?"

He glared at me, but didn't say anything. It seemed I had done the impossible; left Baird speechless. "That's what I thought," I said, glaring right back at him. A moment passed, and I went back to my meal. The tone of the conversation changed; becoming less teasing and more serious. Even Cole seemed to be pondering my question seriously.

"Well, on that cheery note," Cole said, standing up with his tray a few minutes later. "I believe it's bed time. C'mon, you," he said to Baird, grabbing him by his neck plate.

"What am I, your teddy bear?" Baird said acidly. "I'll go to bed when I damn well please." Despite his complaints, he let Cole drag him along. I sighed when they were out of earshot.

"_Really_ didn't want to do that," I said, pushing my empty tray away from me. The broccoli had tasted horrible, but I downed all of it, not one to waste food.

"Do what?" Dom asked me, cracking his neck. "Put Baird in his place? Don't worry about it, you're right. We just haven't thought about it like that. I wonder how many female Stranded are in your same situation." He seemed to be mulling my words over thoughtfully, and I'd bet he was wondering if his 'Maria' had left Jacinto for the same reasons. "How old were you when you split?"

"Fifteen," I said. Marcus was watching me closely, those crystal-clear blue eyes unnerving me. "So, am I stuck here, or…" I trailed off.

Dom shot a questioning look towards Marcus. "You can sleep in our room until we find something more permanent." Marcus got up from the table without looking behind him to see if we were following. Dom got up, motioning for me to follow suit. We dumped our empty trays at the cleaning station, me ignoring the myriad of death glares, and I stuck close behind the two as we headed over to barracks. I probably wasn't supposed to share quarters with guys, but then again, I probably wasn't supposed to still be breathing either. One regulation at a time.

We got to the small room Dom and Marcus shared. I headed to the wall across the door, and let my pack slump to the floor. There was a grunt of effort behind me and I turned just in time to see a pillow and a blanket fly towards my face. I caught Dom's blanket in one hand and shifted to the side to let the ratty pillow hit the wall.

"What the hell?" I asked, picking up the pillow and looking at the pair of gears questionably.

Marcus didn't answer, and Dom just shrugged, taking off his armor. Annoyed, I began to toss the items back to their original owners. I couldn't resist; I tossed Dom's blanket to his bed and threw the pillow at Marcus's head. He turned quickly and caught it in midair, reminding me I shouldn't take these guys' skills for granted.

"Keep your stuff," I said to them. "I'll be fine. I've slept on worse stuff then this."

"Suit yourself," Dom said, laying down on his thin cot. I blinked in surprise when it didn't collapse under him. He clicked off the lantern- or the power went out, one of the two- and we fell into complete darkness. I felt around for my pack, tossing it against the wall to use as a pillow.

I wanted to sleep facing the room, but my stitches protested and I ended up staring at the wall. Sam laid down next to me, pressing her warm body against my back. I sighed and adjusted my pack so it was more comfortable.

A few minutes later, when Dom's breathing relaxed and slowed, I heard Marcus's grunt of effort and a soft _thump_ on the wall just above me.

It was another pillow, and from the direction it came from, it could only be Marcus'. Fighting a small smile, I raised it over my head to throw it back at him.

"Throw it at me, and I'm shooting you," was all he said, his gravelly voice sounding out of place in the darkness. I chuckled slightly before setting it to the side, intent on using my pack and only my pack as a pillow. As time went by, I slammed my fist into the rough canvas, trying to find the softest part. The way it felt, it might as well been filled with rocks. Then I remembered all the loose mags. I sighed and grabbed the pillow, stuffing in under my head. It was just sitting there, after all. Somebody might as well get some comfort from it.

I had intended on staying awake all night, not one to fall asleep in the lion's mouth. However, this was easier said than done. Exhaustion crept in, and, combined with the fact that I had technically been awake for two day, was too much to handle. I found my eyes sinking closed and me being dragged towards unconsciousness.

**Authors note- Yay! Another chapter! Hopefully it's length was worth the wait.**

**Well? What do you think? Send me a review and let me know, and I'll throw in a free preview!**

**As always, thanks to my awesome and talented beta's Kade Riggs and Rockforthecross74. Check their stuff out, you won't regret it!**

**And just a hint, people write faster when they know there is people actually reading and critiquing their work. So...you know...reviews are awesome. Just saying...**


	6. Clues and Questions

Sceniu Complex

Six Years After E-day

_But he'd still know she'd been crying for hours. No amount of sympathy or tablets could change the fact that their kids were dead - and their parents, and cousins, and half their friends. The fact that the Santiagos were like millions of other utterly broken and bereaved people across Tyrus - across the whole world - didn't ease the pain one bit._

_-Dominic Santiago on his wife's depression._

**The young girl hummed quietly to herself as she carried her heavy load home. It was ration day, and she had stood in line all day to get her and her 'father's' share of food; mostly dried beans and rice, and a few medical supplies. She already knew from experience that the medicine would be traded for booze.**

**She was happy for the time away from school, especially because standing in line had taken longer than a typical school day. Family rations were tied up in the children attending the one large school left in Jacinto, in an effort to maintain some sense of normalcy. However, the school was not immune to the changes the grubs had made to society. Classes like science were now mostly based on survival skills, such as what roots were safe to eat and how to navigate by using the stars. Classroom etiquette had changed, to the point where bullying could mean going home with a broken leg instead of a black eye. Even the teachers were not untouched by some of the older kids, and many kept a pistol holstered on their belt.**

**But the young girl wasn't worried about this as she adjusted the heavy box in her arms. Nobody bothered her on her way home, protected by the watchful gaze of some gears. There always were a few on guard duty, especially after the food riots had caused major damage to humanity's last stronghold. There was an undercurrent of life to Jacinto; mothers calling children to dinner, kids playing and screaming in the street, gears calling out to one another as they left or returned from assignments. But there still was a watchfulness to everyone's movements, always peering out of the side of their eyes to watch for grubs, or if their neighbor was stealing their dinner, or if the population control division were looking to make trouble.**

**She turned down her lonely street, leaving the hum of activity behind her. All housing had been controlled by the COG, but everyone knew the kind of people who lived in this part of town. Scum, alcoholics, drug addicts, and hookers. And she called this place home.**

**Pausing by an alleyway, she gave a long look to her medium-height apartment building, where hell waited for her. She grimaced, reluctant to enter the building's dingy, stifling confines. Despite the dangers of staying on the streets, especially in this part of town, she was torn between the two worlds. She quickly chose to brave the streets for just a few moments longer, deliberately turning on her heels and heading into the nearest alley. She adjusted her load, wincing as the rough corners of the box passed over her fresh bruises.**

**"Kiki," she called quietly. "Kiki, where are you?"**

**A quiet meow awarded her efforts. An undersized, grey and white cat emerged from the shadows, happy to see the girl. The girl sighed, set her load down, and sat criss-cross on the dirty and cracked pavement. The cat climbed into her lap, purring as she started scratching behind its ears.**

**"You like that?" she asked, not expecting an answer. The small cat sniffed at her pocket, and the girl smiled. She pulled out a bit of dried meat she had saved from her measly lunch. "You're pretty smart, huh?"**

**The cat gobbled up the measly meal, and sniffed her pockets for more. Finding none, she contented herself to curling up the girls' lap and licking her hand with her rough, sandpaper tongue. The girl watched her, stroking her soft but dirty fur before sighing.**

**"What am I going to do, huh?" she asked. "I really don't want to go back there."**

**She spent the next few moments enjoying Kiki's soft fur against her palm. She started when a man, obviously drunk, stumbled into the alleyway. He hiccupped, swaying a bit, before his blood-shot eyes locked on her. "Hey, I know you!" he said with malice in his voice. He started for her, but he tripped and had to grab the brick wall next to him to stay standing. "You're Bane's kid, ain't ya?"**

**Not responding, she pushed Kiki out of her lap and hurriedly grabbed the box of food beside her. She ran as fast as the box's weight would allow, fleeing before the man had the chance to reach her. Bane was her caretaker, although the term was used loosely. If the drunk man reported seeing her in the alleyway, she instinctively knew that there would be hell to pay.**

**She slowed down when she entered the apartment complex. The foyer was dim, and smelled musty. There were dark puddles in the corners of the room where drunks often passed out. She started up the stairs, not sparing a glance for the broken elevator. Landlords had to stay within strict energy quotas, and luxuries such as the elevator had become nonexistent.**

**She made it to their fifth floor apartment, after stopping twice on the trek up the stairs to catch her breath. She reached into the pocket of her ripped jeans, taking out a tarnished key. She held her breath as the key tumbled in the lock, silently praying that Bane wasn't home, or at least wouldn't hear her.**

**She heard footsteps approach from inside the apartment, and she shrank away from the door in fear. The deadbolt turned over, and the heavy door was wrenched open. There he stood, looking like death warmed over. His eyes were red and blurry, the result of too much drinking. He had a three-day old beard growing on his jaw, and his clothes hadn't been washed in days.**

**"What the fuck took so damn long?" he spat at her, bloodshot eyes narrowed.**

**Muttering a curse when she didn't answer, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her inside the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He threw her key back at her after grabbing it out of the lock. She set the heavy box on the broken kitchen table, stooping to pick up the key and then backing away. He pulled items out at random, tossing the inconsequential items away from him, most landing next to the box. One bag of rice spilled over, and she winced as the precious granules hit the floor, knowing it would be hell to clean up.**

**He found what he was looking for, a small bottle of painkillers, and downed a small handful. He washed them down with a swallow of moonshine, before turning his accusatory gaze on her. "Make some damn food. And don't forget, you don't eat tonight, understood?"**

**"Yes," she nodded slightly, hoping he'd leave soon. The 'bed without food' bit was just another way of torturing her. This one she could get around, however. He couldn't stand to be in the same room as her, so how would he know if she pilfered a bit while she was cooking?**

**He gave her another disgusted look, as if she was the one drunk and disheveled, "Yes _what_?" he spat at her.**

**"Yes, _sir._" she emphasized the last word. It was a mind trick, used to make her believe he was better than her. By no rights did he deserve the title. He wasn't even a gear, using her as an excuse to get out of serving. Every time recruitment came knocking on their door, he gave them the same song and dance about her mother dieing, and if he was to be gone on missions, who would take care of her?**

**He shot her one last disgusted look before turning and wobbling to his bedroom. He collapsed onto the dirty sheets, taking another swallow of the ever-present booze.**

**She quietly got to work in the kitchen, boiling the rice and beans together. She wasn't the best cook, as her mother had never taught her, so she mostly learned by trial and error. Rice and beans was usually a safe bet, but there was no telling while he was in this mood.**

**She padded softly into the back bedroom, holding the bowl of rice and beans in front of her like a shield. The bowl was scalding her fingers from the heat of the food, and her fingertips burned. He sat up when he heard her come in, rustling the filthy blankets on his bed.**

**"Give me that," he snarled, snatching the bowl out of her grasp. He took a bite, chewing quickly before spitting out the mouthful on the floor. "What is this shit?" he spat, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes. "You trying to poison me?" He threw the bowl at her. The scalding grains of rice flecked her skin, burning her wherever they touched. She cried out, scraping at the flecks of searing heat along her body, but she just succeeded in burning her hands. He watched her with a slightly satisfied look on his face, before brushing past her out of the bedroom.**

**"You make me sick," he said, just before she heard the front door open. "I'm outta here." He slammed the door shut, the loud bang echoing throughout the apartment.**

**She sighed, ignoring the wetness of her eyes. "God help me," she whispered to herself, brushing at a few last sticky grains of rice. Armed with a damp and dirty towel, she wiped at the smear of food on the wall.**

**Heart filling with anger, she paused in her efforts. Sinking down against the wall, she rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes.. Her fist found the small locket around her neck that she secretly continued to wear. If he knew about it, it would almost certainly be swiped for booze. She rubbed her thumb over the engraved initials. _S.C…Sylvia Carla… _The last letter had broken off with the other piece of the locket. She examined her dead brother's and mother's faces through wet eyes. Kneeling on the threadbare carpet, she began to pray, just as her mother had taught her to do whenever she needed some divine intervention.**

**"Dear God," she whispered, "Please bring me back to my family. I miss them. Oh, how I miss them. My mother…my father…they can't all be dead…" She sniffed, clutching the locket tighter in her hand. "Please let my father come rescue me from this place…"**

**A loud snort from her left interrupted her. "Aww…ain't that precious." He was back, leaning against the doorframe with a sneer on his face. She sprang to her feet, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't seen the locket.**

**"You miss your daddy?" he asked her in a patronizing tone, stalking towards her. "You think praying will bring him back? Will bring _anyone_ back?" he knelt down next to her. His eyes were oddly focused, and pain radiated from them. Transfixed, she idly wondered who he had lost to make him so cold.**

**"Prayers are like dreams and wishes. They _don't_ come true. Everyone you ever knew, everyone you ever loved, is dead. Understand? They are all _dead!_" he roared the last part at her, swiping his arm along the dresser next to them. Empty bottles and trash rained down on her, and she held her hands over her head as protection. "Don't you _ever_ forget that."**

**He spat the last words at her, standing up. His hands were shaking with anger, so he wrapped them around the half-full bottle of whiskey. He ignored her as he stalked out of the room, slamming the front door even harder this time around.**

**_He's right, you know_, the sickeningly sweet voice in her head whispered to her. _They must be dead, after all this time. Either that, or they just don't give a damn about you._**

**Alone, beaten down, and abused, she finally gave in to the voice of doubt. She unclipped the locket from around her neck.**

**"What's the point of pretending anymore?" she said to the empty apartment, her voice sounding cold and defeated even to her own ears. "They are _gone._ I know it, Bane knows it. It's time to grow up and move on." She gave the locket a hard look, the spinning chain swirling her mother's face around to smile at her. She shoved the locket into her pocket, angrily pawing at the moisture in her eyes.**

**It was official. Sylvia was dead and gone, along with the family whose mockingly cheerful smiles still radiated from the inside of her pocket.**

**Only Bri remained.**

A hand shook me awake, and I snapped to, eyes searching the blackness for a threat. For one muddled moment, I thought that _he_ had found me again, as if he had miraculously come back from the dead.

A vaguely familiar voice cursed. "Shit, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." I heard some fishing around to my left, and I slunk across the wall. I drew my sidearm, not fully registering how fruitless such an act would be. A light click, and the room flooded with light.

Dom was slowly straightening up, after crouching to light the lantern. Sam was half-crouched as well, examining the room for whatever had startled me. Marcus was the only one not awake, and his soft snores filled the room.

Finally realizing I had again reacted to a nonexistent threat, I slouched against the wall. "Good morning," I said sarcastically to Dom. "I trust you slept well?"

"Right…" he murmured, watching me closely. They had both woken me at random intervals during the night, making sure I didn't have a concussion. I must have slipped into a deeper sleep before they had the chance to wake me again, giving me the opportunity to lapse into nightmares. Dom coughed awkwardly. "You looked like you were having one hell of a nightmare. Anything you wanna talk through?"

I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose with one hand. "I'm good." We paused, not exactly sure where to go from here. I watched him, waiting for him to make the next move. When he didn't do anything, I snorted. _Well…this is awkward._

He eyed me warily, evidently disagreeing with my own assessment. He stood. "C'mon. Let's take a walk." He held a hand out to me, hefting me to my feet. Noticing my empty pistol, he grabbed a box of ammo off a shelf. I grabbed my pack in one hand, Marcus' pillow in the other. As we walked out the room, I dumped the pillow on Marcus's head, delighting when I heard the slight disrupt in his snores.

The hallway was short, and dimly lit. Something occurred to me belatedly. "Is it just my imagination, or did you make me sing the alphabet song last night?

He chuckled. "It's the easiest way of testing to make sure you were lucid, without requiring me to get outta bed."

I thought that over, then shrugged. Hey, whatever worked, right?

He headed out a fire escape, holding the door open for me and letting me walk through first. We were on a balcony, facing east. The sky was still dark, and the ocean reflected the inky black. I let the salty sea air blow my hair back, relishing the chill of the wind.

Dom sat the box of bullets on the railing next to me. I stared him down, not touching the box. His eyebrows knitted together, then understanding lit his brown eyes. "You can pay me back."

I smirked, then flipped open the small white box. "Deal," I said, laying out a handful of mags on the railing between us. We both got to work, and for the longest time the only sound was of bullets sliding into place and Sam's soft breathing as she caught some more shuteye by my feet. As the silence got to me, I asked the only thing I could think of. "Who's Maria?"

He started, halting in his re-loading efforts. He blinked down at me. "How do you know who she is?"

I shrugged. "Back at New Hope, when Cole told you about me, you asked if it was Maria. Who was she?"

"She was my wife," he said, setting down another full mag. "She…she wasn't well when she left. I've been looking for her ever since, about ten years now. I know she's out there, somewhere. Here, I've got a picture." He patted his chest in a familiar motion, then cursed quietly. "Damn. It's in my chest plates. Remind me to show you it later."

I nodded, choosing to keep my mouth shut lest I told him how idiotic I thought he was being. If someone disappeared for a _week_ in today's Sera, they were considered dead, let alone ten years.

The sky started to lighten, and somewhere a rooster crowed. Because of the severe rationing, it wasn't uncommon to find citizens raising their own livestock. Stranded did the same, although those who had the means and the balls found it easier to hunt wild game.

We ran out of mags before we ran out of bullets. I chambered a round in my pistol, then dropped and reloaded the magazine before returning it. I placed the spare mags and bullets in my pack. The familiar weight was comforting to me.

We stood together in comfortable silence, watching as the sun slowly woke the world. Every so often, I'd flick my gaze over to Dom, wondering when he'd say something. Finally, he seemed to notice this and said, "So…uh, anything you wanna talk about?

I thought for a second. "Well, am I stuck here or…" I tried to act nonchalantly, as if I wasn't hoping beyond hope that I could stay.

"It's Marcus' call," he said. "But as long as you don't shoot anybody in the ass, I don't see a problem with you staying."

I tried to tamp down the grin that was slowly spreading across my face. "Well," I said sarcastically, saving face. "If Baird runs his mouth _one more time_…"

He laughed. "Baird's _almost_ tolerable as long as everyone accepts the fact that he's smarter than everyone else."

I smirked. "You know, I used to think that there was some tragic soul that was covered up behind his sarcasm and surly temper. Now I realize he's just an asshole."

"Yeah," he chuckled, trailing off onto another subject. "You're alright, kid." He reached out to tousle my hair affectionately, and I immediately danced out of his reach. I saw the shock in his eyes, and the apology came immediately to my lips.

"I'm sorry. I just have a problem with people…touching me."

He nodded, still looking slightly shocked. "Understandable, I guess."

We examined each other, not exactly sure what had changed. One minute, the mood had felt familiar, almost like…home. When I pulled away from him, it was like I had taken that moment with me. We were back to being strangers, again. The wind blew the taste of saltwater up to us, and I shivered against the chill.

He shifted his weight awkwardly. "Well...maybe it's time we..."

The clanging of the door behind us interrupted him. Cole peeked his massive head out, smiling when he found us. "Yo, Damon Baby!" he called over his shoulder. "They're out here!"

I wasn't sure who Damon was. I nudged Sam awake with the toe of my foot, striding towards the door. Today was my first 'official' day with Delta, and I was determined to make it a good one.

Baird waited for us with Cole just inside the door. "Morning, assholes," he called. Then he nonchalantly reached over and slapped my ass as I walked into the base.

I froze for half a second, before whipping around and catching him full in the face with my fist. I went for another blow in his solar plexus, but he blocked it.

"Shit, calm down!" I heard him grunt, but I wouldn't, _couldn't _obey. It was instinct born of too many close calls with death. I would _not_ be a victim, not again.

I stepped inside his guard, trying for another punch to the jaw. Before I could pull my fist back, he grabbed my arm, and used it to spin me around, my back flush with his chest.

He bear hugged me, holding me tight. Panicked, I threw an elbow to his ribs, and I heard him grunt in my ear. He didn't let go, so I rammed my foot into his instep. His arms slackened, and I spun myself out of his grasp, pulling my sidearm as I went.

Everyone froze, staring at me and Baird. His head was in my sights, my finger on the trigger. I vaguely registered how he had his arms up in a surrendering gesture.

"Bri?" I vaguely heard Dom talking to me. "Bri, listen to me. Don't shoot the asshole. He didn't mean anything by it."

Now that the battle rush had faded, I could take in my surroundings- the mass of gears who had paused to watch the fight, who wouldn't look to kindly on me shooting one of their own. How Cole had Sam by the haunches, and she was fighting him, trying to get to Baird. I did a slow scan of everyone watching me, wondering if any of them were going to tackle me. I saw Marcus' face in the crowd, and I lowered my gun.

"Don't you _ever_," I snapped at him, leaving the threat hanging in the air. I holstered my pistol, and everyone around me breathed a sigh of relief.

Dom came up to me, noticeably leaving a foot of space between us, although I could tell he wanted to mother me. "Shit, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm _fine_," Baird snapped, rubbing his jaw. Dom's eyes narrowed a split second before he turned to yell at Baird.

Ignoring the myriad of looks and whispered statements trailing me like a cloak, and started off for the cafeteria. Cole released Sam, and she padded over to my side, growling at anyone in my path, which wasn't alot. I kept my head down, not looking at anyone. I was shaking, now that the adrenaline had faded. Instinct had taken over when Baird touched me, and I had reacted out of fear and anger rather than common sense. I _knew_ he wouldn't go farther than that, but I couldn't afford to just assume that about anyone. I had seen girls who had _assumed_ the guys they were with were good guys, and they ended up beaten and used, if not worse.

It took me a minute to notice that Marcus had fallen in beside me. I glanced up at him, feeling oddly comforted by his huge, hulking figure next to me. I waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat. "You shouldn't hit people like that," he said, but I could tell he was only saying because of some misplaced sergeant duty, and not because he actually believed it. I examined him. His walk was stiff, and his jaw was clenched tightly. Was Marcus...pissed? Only question was, was he pissed at me for going after Baird, or at Baird for starting the fight in the first place?

I rolled my eyes, going back to the conversation. "Oh, yeah? I couldn't resist."

He grunted noncommittally. When a pair of talking gears didn't part fast enough for him, he leaned into the crowd, like a war horse on the battlefield. He didn't even look up when Dom and Cole joined us, but when he spoke I knew it was directed towards Dom. "Any reason why you didn't interfere?"

Dom glanced up in surprise, obviously noting Marcus' mood. "She had it handled," Dom explained. "If Baird had gone after her, I would have put him in the ground. She needs to know she can handle herself."

I looked at him, surprised he understood. He winked at me before patting Marcus on the shoulder. I had a feeling he was the only person alive that could have gotten away with that. Marcus nodded slightly, but I could tell he wished Dom had put Baird in the ground anyway.

Because of the small hallway, we split into two different groups. I fell back with Cole, observing how Dom treated Marcus. Everyone else gave Marcus a wide berth, keeping their distance. His huge biceps demanded their own respect, and people were more than happy to give it. Marcus didn't strike me as the type who had to prove themself, but when he did people ended up in the hospital. Dom was different. He had an easy way about Marcus, treating him like he would any other person in the world.

I gestured with my chin to the pair in front of us. "So…Dom and Marcus. They're pretty close, yeah?"

Cole nodded. "Hells yeah. Closer than brothers. There used to be a third one that they ran around with. He died before all this happened though. Carlos…or something like that."

We reached the cafeteria, and the remnants of Delta ducked inside for breakfast. I paused, thinking hard. _Carlos…Carla._ Hadn't I been named after someone? But a different name…the name I had before I became Bri…

I thought back, flinching at the memory of my brother's and best friend's body's laying still and cold on the pavement when Hell burst through our streets. I shivered, and decided I didn't _want_ to remember.

Not now.

Not ever.

**_Authors note- Yay! Another chapter! Huge thanks to rockforthecross74 for betaing this! : D_**

**_Sorry this is short, but I really liked ending it there. Next chapter we'll meet some familiar faces, such as Dizzy and Mataki. Maybe even a bit of Hoffman thrown in to keep things fresh. _**

**_So let me know what you thought! As always, reviewers get a preview of the next chapter! : D_**


	7. Southern Hospitality

Jacinto's Military Base of Operations

Present Time

_"Yeah, they preferred to be Stranded, even though it was a nice clean name for a dirty, terrible thing. The poor saps outside the wire were the _betrayed_. The COG was another enemy now, somehow even worse than the grubs. Grubs didn't kill their own." _

_-Dizzy Wallin's inner thoughts about living in the Stranded camps after the Hammer strikes._

The cafeteria was modestly full, for being so early in the morning. I did a quick scan of the room, and saw...nothing. No hostile stares, no whispered words behind my back, just...nothing. Either they had forgotten I was there, or they had grown indifferent to my presence. I had a feeling that none of them knew about the fight between Baird and I, at least not yet. Baird's huge mouth hadn't had a chance to whine to the cafeteria about being beat by a girl, and I chose to relish that fact as long as possible.

Dom and Cole had already sat down with their meals, and Marcus was heading towards them with his own tray. I briefly contemplated joining them without getting a tray, but figured they'd force me to go get some food. Heaving a sigh, I got in line.

I didn't even notice the battered cowboy hat in line ahead of us until Sam gave a happy _woof. _I smiled, happy at seeing a familiar face. Grabbing a tray, I cut in line, figuring if anyone minded they could just get the hell over themselves. Standing behind him, I summoned my best 'sergeant' voice.

"Sup, _Private,_" I barked at him. He whipped around, probably wondering if he was going to get stuck on a charge for something or another; probably drinking, although it was a bit early for that.

He wrinkled face creased into a grin. "Aww, shit!" he laughed, slapping me on the back. "Lookit who's here! Them grubs in for the shit, now!"

I had to laugh at Dizzy's contagious excitement. He was an old friend; one who had taken care of me as I slowly learned how to brave life on the streets when I became Stranded. Even though he had turned to the COG to secure refuge for his two girls, we still kept touch. He kept me informed on the happenings around base and what squads could use me shadowing them, and I kept him in the loop of daily Stranded life.

"Shit, girl," he said, eyeing me with his watery brown eyes. "What are y'all doing round here? This ain't exactly your place."

I shrugged. "I'm babysitting Delta. Just...not in the expected way."

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a more detailed explanation that was not forthcoming. I didn't want to explain _here_ that I had actually been caught lifting a kit out of a COG Centaur. For some reason, I didn't think that _that_ would go down well, especially with so many gears within earshot. The line was moving, anyway, and I motioned him closer to the servers.

The cook on duty gave a disdainful look at us, which could have been reserved for either me, Dizzy, or Sam; who was currently sniffing the floor for any discarded food. Dizzy passed his tray up, and when it came back, it was filled with a sourdough roll, a slice of some kind of meat, and a mound of mushy yellow things that smelled faintly of eggs.

Dizzy waited while I passed my tray up to the cook. When it came back it was practically empty, aside from half a scoop of the powdered eggs. I gave it a mournful look, but didn't say anything, wondering how much jerky I still had in my pack.

I turned to go, but Dizzy stopped me with one hand. He fixed the cook with a look that clearly said _explain._ "Come on now," he said. "That ain't enough for a bird to eat."

The cook glared at him. "She's not a gear," he spat.

Without hesitating, Dizzy pulled my tray out of my hands and replaced it with his overflowing one. He passed his 'new' tray up again. "Alright then, _I'm_ a gear. Fill 'er up."

The cook obviously decided it wasn't worth fighting over, and dished up the huge portions. He pushed it back towards Dizzy then moved down the line, making it clear that he was done with us. Rolling my eyes, I turned with Dizzy to find a place to sit at Delta's table. "You didn't have to do that," I whispered to him, a hint of embarrassment in my voice as I kept my eyes trained on Sam.

"Do what?" he boomed, almost as loud as Cole would have. "That wasn't nothing. Told you, anything I'd do for my girls, I'd do for you."

I could feel my cheeks grow warm, and I gave him a small smile. "You know, you kinda rock," I told him. It was nice to know somebody had my back once in a while, although I still insisted on making my own way in the world.

He winked at me. "Yep, I know it. Us Stranded folk have to stick together."

I found it interesting that he still referred to himself as Stranded. Deciding to leave that conversation for another day, I changed topics. "So, how are Maralin and Teresa?"

"Fine, fine, just fine," he said as we reached Dom, Cole, and Marcus. "Gentlemen," he said as a greeting. "Mind if we join you?"

Nobody had any complaints, so I sat next to Dom, across the table from Marcus. Dizzy sat next to the next few minutes, nobody said anything. The only sound was Cole shoveling watery eggs into his mouth. Trying to ignore the tense atmosphere, I cut the dense roll in half. I then placed the meat on one side and a forkful of eggs on the other, forming a makeshift sandwich. Resting both elbows on the table, I took a bite.

While chewing, I happened to glance at Marcus, and then back for a double take. Marcus had frozen, staring at Dom and I, his fork suspended in the air between his mouth and plate. Uncomfortable, I glanced at Dom to see if he had grown a second head or something.

Dom was staring at me with the same befuddled look that had to be mirrored on my face. He had both elbows resting on the table as well, and in his hands, a venison and egg sandwich identical to mine.

Feeling like I had just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I slowly lowered my sandwich to the plate and took a bite of eggs. My eyes flickered up to Marcus to see if this was acceptable, or if he had a problem with me eating my eggs too. Marcus had gone back to eating, but every so often he'd glance up with an unintelligible look on his face. Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice the tense exchange.

A tray clattered to the table. Baird sat, angrily mixing his eggs with the meat. Feeling slightly abashed, I examined my handiwork from the fight; a small cut on the bridge of his nose, and a bruise lightly shadowing the curve of his jaw. He looked up, feeling my eyes on him. "What?"

I smirked. "Just making sure I didn't mess up that pretty face of yours," I teased, just to show him that there were no hard feelings.

He grunted, eating a bite of eggs. Cole laughed, clapping Baird on the shoulder. "That's alright, Lil sis! His pretty face has survived plenty of punches."

Dizzy glanced between us. "Somebody wanna fill me in?"

Before I could explain, Cole answered him in his booming voice. "Baird here got an _education." _He laughed, "Lil sis schooled him on some manners!"

"More like she went berserk on me," Baird grumbled. "It was _one _slap. One little, innocent slap. And she decks me. She friggin' _decks _me."

"Well...you deserved it," Marcus spoke for the first time that morning. Baird blinked at him, as if surprised that Marcus would call him out.

The look on Baird's face got everybody laughing. I wasn't sure what was funnier- Marcus' nonchalant face as he said it, or Baird's stunned expression _that _he said it. "Yeah, laugh it up, assholes!" Baird barked at us, which just made us laugh harder.

A woman came up and stood behind Baird. "Whats so funny, Blondie?"

I bit my lip. _Blondie? _I thought to myself. _Oh,_ _I'll have to remember that one..._

The woman was older, about Mamma's age. Although, while Mamma looked like a pre E-day doting grandmother, this woman looked more like a smack in the mouth waiting to happen. She was wearing mismatched plates, and her streaked-gray hair was tied back in braids. She cut her steel-gray eyes over to me. "Who's this?"

Standing, I nodded once in her direction. "Call me Bri."

She looked me over once before extending her hand for me to shake. "Sergeant Bernadette Mataki."

I shook her hand once, uncomfortable with the motion. A handshake had become an antiquated gesture that was basically meaningless in the rest of Sera. Most people never got close enough to shake hands, kept at bay by distrust and risk of disease. She nodded once before shifting her gaze to Marcus. "What's this? Are you pulling in civvies now?"

Marcus grunted, and I got the feeling he didn't want to have to explain anything to Mataki. Too bad. This I wanted to hear.

"We caught her-" Baird started to explain, but then stopped suddenly, as if someone had kicked him under the table. From the look on his face, I'd bet somebody did.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Boomer Lady," Cole said, flashing that million-dollar smile her way. "She's just our new...mascot."

I nearly choked on my next bite of food. _Mascot?_ Cole winked at me, and I figured he probably knew what he was doing better than I did. I figured 'Stranded-that-we-caught-looting-our-tank' probably wouldn't go down well with the Sergeant. "You'd better watch yourself, though," he said in mock warning to Sam. "She _likes_ cats."

Not sure what he meant, I offered up a tentative "I like cats, too…"

"Good," she said, taking a seat next to Marcus. "Let's exchange recipes."

I blanched, letting my fork clash to the table. I blinked, before composing myself and offering up a tiny smirk. "Well, then…" I tried to come up with a sarcastic remark, but I blanked. _Damn…cats?_

She rolled her eyes, then patted Cole's arm affectionately. "Don't mind him. He just doesn't understand that women will do what's necessary to survive, when men don't have quite the stomach." She gave Sam a pat on the head. "Dogs, on the other hand, are too bloody useful."

Marcus eyed her, evidently not buying into her innocent banter. "Something you need?" he asked in that low grumble of his.

"Hoffman wants to see you in an hour for a debrief. Apparently they got something off the intel you gathered at New Hope."

Marcus' eyebrow twitched, like he wanted to hike it up but he wouldn't lower himself to actually show such a reaction. "You know about that?"

She scoffed, "Come on, Marcus. The whole base is buzzing about it. Prescott withholding information _this_ late into the war? Everybody's wondering what else the tosser has up his sleeve."

Dom cleared his throat. "What we going to do with our number five? I doubt this is something Hoffman needs to be concerned with." His gaze shifted down to me, and I realized he was wondering if they could trust me on my own.

"Hey!" I said, forming the perfect reassuring smile that I had used on plenty of people before- guards so they'd let me in after curfew, teachers when I forgot my homework, and Ace when I had gotten in trouble _again_. "I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself." He cleared his throat, and I realized that wasn't why he was concerned. My smile slipping, I narrowed my eyes. "And I'm _not_ going to leave base. Not unless you guys want me to."

Baird started to open his mouth, but Dom talked over him. "Of course not." He flicked his gaze over to Marcus to make sure this was okay. "It's just…"

He trailed off, and the reason for his unease hit me like a ton of bricks. He was afraid some of the other gears would take advantage if Delta stepped away for a minute. I took a moment to place my tray on the ground for Sam to get. Standing, I addressed the whole table. "I'll be fine. Seriously, guys. I don't need you to baby-sit me."

Not giving them a chance to argue, I turned on my heel and started off to the other side of the cafeteria. I pulled my canteen out of my pack, heading towards the sinks to refill it. There was a gear already standing there, screwing the lid tight on his own canteen. Turning, he smiled when he saw me, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. There was something dangerous about him, predatory even.

"Hello there…" he drawled, re-attaching his canteen to his belt. He still had that same odd, cold smile on his face.

"Hello," I answered, forcing a smile of my own on my face. It was just a courtesy. Anyone with half a brain could realize that this wasn't going to end well. A chill ran down my spine when I realized that this man would force me to kill him.

He reached for my canteen, and I resisted the urge to duck out of reach. "Let me help you with that." Without taking his eyes off my face, or losing that damn smile, he unscrewed the lid and dumped out the last bit of water it had contained. He screwed the top back on and handed it back to me.

I kept smiling at him. "Thank you. Probably could have handled emptying it by myself, but I appreciate the help."

When I moved toward the sinks, he blocked me. The smile finally slipped from his face. "Oh, I think you're done here." He loomed over me, and I took a step back, determined not to let him intimidate me.

I felt a presence at my back and I panicked. _Shit, I can't take two of them!_ Could I?

I sidestepped away from them, searching for the face of my new attacker. It was Marcus. He stood at my back, a silent but formidable weapon.

He observed the situation, eyeing the gear with a slight hint of disdain in his expression. "Some reason why you're still here?"

If it had been anybody else, the gear might have pushed it. I saw his eyes graze over the deep and ragged scars on Marcus' face, and he all but tucked his tail between his legs and ran. He flipped us the bird as he left, but I figured that was better than getting into another fight. Marcus grunted before stepping forward and filling his canteen. He clipped it to his belt before reaching back for my own. I gave it up, biding my time.

He turned, replacing the lid with a twist of his large hand. I took it from him, giving him a caustic look.

"You didn't have to do that."

He didn't look surprised as we started back for the table. "Do what?"

"Fight him. I don't need you, or anyone else, looking out for me. I could have taken him." He glanced down at me, sizing me up.

"I'm sure you could have," he said, but his tone said the opposite.

Grabbing his large bicep, I pulled him to a stop. Not an easy feat, and there was no way in the world I could have done it if he didn't cooperate. He stood a head and a half over me, and had to weigh twice as much as I did. "I mean it. I don't need, or _want_, you to fight my battles."

"Fine," he said, pointedly staring at my hand on his arm. "Won't happen again."

He pulled out of my grasp, turning away and effectively ending the conversation. I was left with the unshakable feeling that I had let him down somehow. I gave myself a mental head slap, deciding I was getting too deep, too quick. _You heard Cole. You're a plaything; nothing more, nothing less. Eventually they'll throw you out on your ass, and _then _where will you be?_ I didn't want to think about that, so I didn't. Pushing all those dark, scary thoughts to the back of my mind, I followed after Marcus.

Sam was gobbling up bits of food that had been tossed to her from Cole and Dom. Baird was tipped back in his chair, balancing precariously on two legs. I fought the urge to grab his chair and wrench it out from underneath him, and settled for smacking him lightly on the back of the head.

"Hey!" he protested, swiveling his head around to see me smirking behind him. "What was that for?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Thought you might deserve it." I looked to Cole. "Did he?"

Mataki answered. "Yep. He did." She stood, looking down on Baird. "Don't friggin' call me 'Granny', or _I'll_ smack you on the back of the head, and you won't piss straight for a week."

Baird glared at both of us. "I'm in hell. _This _is my hell."

Marcus ignored our little exchange. "Move out. We got that debrief with Hoffman." He grabbed the remnants of his breakfast and headed out, without bothering to check if we were following. Mataki took off in the other direction after mumbling a goodbye to the guys. Dizzy stood, giving me a nod.

"See you 'round," he said, tipping his hat. "Need to go see to my girls, and then Hoffman's got a job for me."

I muttered a goodbye to him, following after Delta. I quickly deposited my tray at the cleanup station, then reassured Dom I wouldn't get in any more trouble. Turning on my heel, I headed in the opposite direction, as if I was planning to hang with Dizzy some more.

Exiting the cafeteria from the south entrance, I followed the hallway around the first corner. I headed down the stairs at a fast clip, dodging gears in uniform and a few civilians thrown in the mix. Keeping my head down, I left the base.

The streets were relatively empty, with families just finishing breakfast. Gears had either already left for missions, or were on their way back in. I turned right, clicking my fingers for Sam to follow. I paused after a hundred yards or so, looking around innocently to make sure no one was following me. No guards came running, so I quickly hefted myself over the chain link fence that surrounded base. I waited for Sam to dig her way under through a hole, then took off at a fast pace.

While inside the base, there were certain wings that I never could have gotten into without proper clearance. The base was fenced off, making the need for all day guard nonexistent. There were a few stationed at the front entrance, but last night I walked in with Delta, and they weren't concerned with people _leaving _the base. Now, there were no guards, no checkpoints, and I was still technically on base. Now to get to Hoffman's office.

I stuck close to the mossy building, paranoid about being caught by some well-meaning civilian, or gears doing morning PT drills. Most days, it was shoot first, ask questions never. I knew how to maneuver my way around outside, just from all the time I used to spend out here with Ace growing up. That, and the fact that I used to pull tons of pranks around here. I'd never be caught on camera, just cause I was never _inside _while pulling off my past indiscretions. You'd be amazed at how many offices you could get into from the outside.

Nearing the western part of building, where all the 'higher ups' were located, I stopped and counted off windows, starting at the left. The one I needed was on the third floor, seven windows in. There was a modestly sized oak tree growing right outside. _Bingo._

Tightening my sniper's strap around my chest, I jumped for the lowest branch. Dangling there for half a second, I used my upper body strength to pull myself up, till I had my boots on the branch. For once, I was grateful for my small stature. A full size gear could have never managed this.

Slowly working my way up the tree by using the branches and a bit of ingenuity, I managed to make it up to Hoffman's window. And, of course, the window was closed and blinds drawn. _Shit, _I thought to myself, frantically looking for another way to listen in on the debrief.

There was an antiquated air conditioning unit hanging by rusted nails. Pulling my pocket knife, I slowly crept forward, making sure to keep my weight balanced on the branch. I wasn't looking forward to another fall from a three story height. Slowly turning the screws with the tip of my knife, I pulled them out, one by one. As quietly as I could, I removed the air conditioner, wrapping a bit of rope through it and tying it to the branch next to me, so I wouldn't have to worry about it falling and revealing me.

Peering through the vent that was still screwed into the wall from the inside, I could just make out the four gears in armor, plus a suspiciously bald head. I was in. I smirked, straddling the branch, and settling in for the whole meeting. _I'm so good I scare myself…_

"Gentlemen," Colonel Hoffman said in his trademark southern twang, apparently just starting the debrief. "The intel you gathered at New Hope was invaluable."

"Just how invaluable we talking?" a voice - Baird - asked. "Cause I don't do this shit for my health, ya know?"

I heard a slight thump, probably someone slapping Baird on the back of the head, before Hoffman continued. "This could mean the end of the war on the Locust."

Blinking, I inched forward, straining to see farther into his office. _Interesting…_

"You wanna elaborate on that, sir?" Marcus asked, probably just as curious I was. All those musty, degraded papers. Who knew they could mean so much to the war?

Finally, Hoffman continued, free of interruptions. "We now have the location of the Locust stronghold, Nexus, and the position of the Locust Queen."

_There's a locust queen? _I thought, just as Cole asked, "Where's this 'stronghold' at?"

"It's at the base of Mount Kadar," Hoffman answered. "What we need you to do is enter Nexus at the entrance _here_," there was a pause while Hoffman must have pointed something out on a map. "Then find the bastard's capital city. Mark it using Jack's beacon, and we'll drill down and hit 'em where it hurts."

"In, out, kick ass. Can do, sir," Cole said. There was a stirring sound as Delta began to leave.

Wondering who or _what_ Jack was, I swung my leg around the tree branch, deciding it was time to leave. Just as I was preparing my descent, I heard Dom speak. "Sir? In the information we handed you, there wasn't any word of Maria, was there?"

I froze, hanging onto Hoffman's next words. "Sorry, son," he said, sounding softer than I had ever heard him. _Of course he'd treat his gears decent, the bastard._ "There was nothing. I would have told you had there been any."

Dom sighed, before muttering a thank you. I heard the door shut behind him as he left the office. Feeling oddly saddened for the man, I shook my head. "Can't fault him for trying," I murmured, before focusing on the next branch.

I was halfway down the tree when I heard the window above me open. "Damn, baby! Thought that was you! Whatcha doing in a tree?"

Startled, I lost my grip on the rough tree branch. I yelped as I fell through the air, landing flat on my back with a huge _whump!_

"Oww…" I groaned, not wanting to move just yet. I laid there a while, trying to gather up the nerve to stand and face the embarrassment of falling out of a tree. I _never _fell out of trees. I used to be able to climb faster than any boy in the neighborhood; a feat I had flaunted often.

A door creaked open behind me, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of _course_ there would be a courtyard door right behind me, after I had gone through all the trouble of climbing the fence and sneaking around base.

"Shit, lil sis! Talk to me!" Cole said, slightly frantic. He landed on his knees beside me. He felt my ankles, checking for broken bones, before slowly moving his hands up my legs. "Say something!"

Finally finding my voice, I croaked out a sorry, "If your hands go any higher, I'm filing for sexual assault."

Cole rocked back on his knees, blowing out a breath. "Shit. You really had me scared there for a second."

Sitting up, I gave him a mock-annoyed look. "Yeah, next time don't yell at me while I'm climbing out of a freaking tree." He have me a sheepish smile, lending a hand to haul me to my feet. I sniffed the rotten air. "Whoa...what stinks?"

He gave a sniff, then widened his eyes as he caught sight of something behind me. "Looks like somebody was sick last night. And you just hit ground zero."

Of course. Why _wouldn't _this happen? I sighed as I removed my leather jacket, grimacing when I saw the putrid vomit splattered down the back. "Anywhere else?"

He examined me. "Looks like it splattered down your legs." Taking a closer look, he said, "And they must like corn."

I sighed again. The cargos would have to be washed. I had a change of pair, though. "Anywhere else?"

He gave me a slow smile, like he had something to say, but _really _didn't want to say it. "Um, some of it got in your hair."

I sucked in a shocked breath. "Get it out! GET IT OUT!" I grabbed the base of my ponytail and lifted it from the skin of my neck.

"Calm down, okay? It's going to have to be washed out." He took the jacket from me, holding his arm out towards the doors. "Let's get you to the showers. No offense, but you ain't smelling too hot."

I followed him inside, trying to ignore the assault on my nasal passages. Cole opened the door, and I followed him inside, resigned to the embarrassing walk through the base. "I have corn-vomit in my hair..." I groaned quietly, not quite sure how this could get worse.

"Don't worry, lil' sis. We'll get you fixed up and prettier than ever." He started to pat my shoulder, thought twice, and settled for giving me a thumbs up.

And the cherry on top of this shit sundae? Baird was waiting for us inside. He took a breath, probably about to launch into some self-righteous speech, but he gagged on the noxious fumes coming from the vomit splattered down my back. "Holy hell!" he said, backing away. "When did you eat the road kill?"

Narrowing my eyes at him, I contemplated punching him in the face again. Instead, I sighed, "It's a new perfume. Eau de vomit. You like? I'm thinking about mass producing it."

He gagged theatrically. "It could peel paint. But I don't know, maybe it smells great to you Stranded types."

Just as I was about to shoot a scathing remark his way, Cole ushered me past him. "Be smooth, 'kay, baby? She's having a bad day."

Baird snorted, probably excited at the prospect of me having a 'bad day'. "Hurry up then," he called after us. "We're wheels up at oh-nine-hundred hours. It's time we took this fight to the Locust."

**Aaanndd...cue in cliffhanger! So we're finally getting somewhere in this story! Don't worry, I'm not going to walk you through Nexus like they did in the game. Actually, we have plenty of chapters before we actually _arrive_ at Nexus. I'll leave just enough in so y'all know where we're at, but I'll keep it fresh and original. And for those who haven't played Gears of War 2, I'll try not to spoil it for you. (Except this one part, but if you've read any gears fiction, you probably already know it.) Anyone seeing where I'm going with this? 'Big Reveal' wise?**

**As always, thanks go out to rockforthecross74 for betaing this!**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review on your way out! I'll even send you a free preview, just because I'm that nice of a person! : D**


	8. Late Arrival

Sceniu Complex

Seven Years After E-day

_Hey, asshole- look at me. I know you get a kick out of this shit, but why pick on us? And, seeing as we're chatting, where the hell did you all come from?_

_-Damon Baird questioning a grub prisoner while Sergeant Mataki tortures it._

**She took a long drag of the cheroot cigarette, holding in the smoke and a cough before exhaling slowly. Bri passed the burning, white stub to Diesel, trying to look cool and uncaring.**

**Once she had decided to quit giving a damn, she found a whole new world opening up to her. The dark side of Jacinto. She found a new group of 'friends', people who smoked and drank, who skipped school, and cursed their parents behind their back and to their faces. If they even still had parents, that is.**

**They were the 'forgotten generation'. Too young to serve as gears or mothers, yet old enough to know what the world had lost, and hold a grudge because of it. As long as they didn't hurt anybody or steal anything too valuable, the COG didn't concern itself with these packs of kids roaming the streets during the day, and many times during the night.**

**Bri had quickly found these gangs, and found herself awash in a sea of 'don't give a shit'. She built up her arsenal of insults and curse words, and used them freely. She'd mouth off to anyone- teachers, rival gangs, and gears. There was only one person that was immune to her mouth, and that was Bane. He still plagued her, and although she wouldn't admit it to anyone, honestly scared her.**

**Rochelle, a girl Bri had come to know, smiled at her. "Damn, girl. You just gonna stand there, or you gonna join the party?" She held out a bottle of booze invitingly.**

**Sylvia would have recoiled from the drink. Bri grabbed it, grinning widely. "Shit, yeah," she said, taking a drink and relishing the burn as it made its way down her throat. She took another swallow before passing the bottle back.**

**The mixture of cigarette smoke and booze was making her a bit woozy, so she rested the back of her head against the wall. Her eyes snapped open when she felt a presence beside her.**

**It was Diesel. He gave her a small smirk, looking down at her from his incredible height. Actually, he wasn't that tall, it was that she was _that_ short. Standing straight, she stuck her chin in the air defiantly, waiting for him to speak.**

**"Hey, Bri," he said seductively. Diesel was known for being a player. He had a different girl for each day of the week, and often more than one at a time. Maybe it was his dangerous persona, or the slight purr he had as he said her name, but she still felt a thrill go through her.**

**"Whaddya _you_ want?" she growled, playing her part. Diesel liked to fight for it, preferring girls who resisted right up to the end. He liked a challenge, and she was willing to provide him with one.**

**"You," he answered simply, wrapping a hand around her waist. She gave him a small smile, stepping back.**

**"Uh-huh," she said, "And did I mention the kick to the groin you'd get if you touch me?"**

**That gave him pause, and he retreated for a moment, thinking up a plan B. He smiled easily, not taking his eyes off of her. "You know you love it."**

**His hand snaked up her arm, and she fought the urge to shiver. "You know, the last thing I'd want to do is hurt you," she began, giving him a fake smile, "but its still on the list."**

**His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened until it was almost painful. "That how you wanna play it?"**

**She pulled out of his grasp, finally regretting all those drinks she had that afternoon. "I'm not 'playing' anything."**

**Finally their little spat caught the attention of Rochelle. She looked between them, eyes slightly glassy. She had been smoking something a bit stronger than cigarettes. "Hey c'mon, Diesel," she said. "Leave her alone. She's still young, she'll learn."**

**Bri snorted. What Rochelle meant was that she'd _learn her place_. Most girls wouldn't even consider saying no to a man, mostly because the man would just end up taking it anyway. Women had become sexual objects, to be used and thrown away until she finally got pregnant by someone; and then she had the dad by the balls for the rest of his life. It was just the new social norm; men became gears and women became breeding stock.**

**Diesel smiled at her, warning her. "Don't worry. I'll put her back the way I found her." His eyes snaked down her body, obviously noting the myriad of bruises and scars, many of them given to her by Bane, but not all. She talked a big game, and sometimes that smart mouth got her in trouble. She silently hoped that this wasn't one of those times.**

**Rochelle rolled her eyes, deciding that the owner of the lap she was sitting on was more important than some smart-assed little kid. Diesel wasn't her brother, Bri wasn't her kid, so why should she care what happened to her? She didn't wish her any harm, but she wasn't about to take a bullet for her. Eventually she would learn that there were some people that you don't talk back to.**

**"Don't worry," Bri said to him, a bit stung by Rochelle's dismissal. "I'm not your type. I'm not inflatable."**

**That did it. Diesel changed in front of her, losing that suave attitude and became something darker, something more sinister. "Oh, yeah?" he snapped. "Why the fuck don't you just leave, then? Go see if one of those other pussy gangs will take you in?"**

**She blinked. It wasn't the first time she had stood up to Diesel, but he had never before threatened to kick her out of the gang. She was small, skin too dark to hang out with the white kids, too light to hang with the blacks. This was the only gang she could hang with, and even if she was the right race to go somewhere else, Diesel's gang had a reputation. The odds where slim to none that she'd be accepted somewhere else. She thought fast, trying to come up with a reason for Diesel to keep her around.**

**"Booze," she said. "I can get you booze."**

**That caught his attention. He examined her face, trying to see if she was lying or not. But free alcohol was one plus he couldn't afford to let go. "Oh yeah? Give it up. I wanna see it."**

**"What, you don't believe me?" she snapped, mentally screaming at herself to shut up. There was no way for her to get free alcohol, and she didn't have anything to trade with for the few people who brewed moonshine down by the docks. "You'll be taking a whiskey bath if you let me stay."**

**He laughed, their earlier spat forgotten, or so it seemed. Diesel never forgot anything, and now that she'd opened her big mouth, he wasn't about to let free booze slip through his fingers. "Go get it. I'm kinda thirsty myself." He turned behind him to another female gang member. "What about you, Destiny? You in for some booze?"**

**She ignored the boy who was talking to her, flashing Diesel a million watt smile. "Hell yeah, Diesel. I'm down for anything with you."**

**He smiled, rotating his head back down to look at Bri. "Well, there you have it. We're all thirsty. Go get that booze you supposedly have."**

**Heart pounding in her ears, she forced another smile. "You guys got it," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.**

**Just before she was out of earshot, she heard Diesel call her name. Turning, she listened as he said, "If your lying, don't bother coming back." She could just see the corners of his mouth turn up in a cold grin. "You won't survive it."**

**Fighting a chill, she held her hands up in an innocent gesture. "What's the matter, Diesel? You don't trust me?" She laughed, as if such an idea was absurd.**

**Walking away, she silently berated herself. _Shit…where the hell am I supposed to find free booze?_**

**The answer came to her so easily, she almost laughed. Did she or did she not live with an alcoholic? Their apartment smelled like a brewery, and she was forever picking her way through empty bottles. The thought didn't come without a hefty dose of fear, however. If Bane thought she was mooching his booze, he'd beat her bloody.**

**Deciding it was either getting beat by Bane or by Diesel's gang, she decided to risk the apartment. Bane just stumbled around in a drunken haze most of the day, so how would he notice a few bottles missing? Hell, half the time she wasn't sure if he even remember who she was. There were always those few disconcerting moments when he was kind, and insisted on calling her 'Jordan'. The first time it had happened, she just figured he had finally snapped. Then she pieced it together after many nights alone with the drunken slob, and it turns out that Jordan was his wife. She figured that she had either left him long ago, or, more likely, died in the Hammer strike. When he finally sobered up long enough to recognize her, he seemed devastated. He always took his anger out on her, so she came to dread those instances when he called her Jordan.**

**She turned down her street, only a block or so away from where Diesel waited for her. The same apartment building waited menacingly for her. She stumbled up the five flights of steps, the alcohol making her feel disconnected to her feet. Her key turned easily in the lock, and she pushed open the door.**

**Pausing in the doorway, she listened intently, barely breathing. She heard a heavy snore from the back bedroom, and she breathed a silent breath of relief. That was how she liked him; passed out and out of her way.**

**Searching the small apartment, she found five almost full bottles, and stuffed them into a canvas pack. She was just passing through the bedroom when she spied a nice bottle of whiskey clenched tight in Bane's fist. Hesitating briefly, she stepped forward, gently coaxing the bottle out of his grip. Putting it with the others, she headed out of the apartment, flinching when the door banged shut behind her.**

**She jogged down the stairs, wanting to put some distance between her and the shaggy apartment. She made her way back to the designated hangout spot for the gang, holding the bottle of whiskey high above her head as a trophy.**

**"Holy shit," Rochelle said admiringly, taking a second to remove herself from her partners lips. "She actually did it."**

**Passing the bottles around, Bri winked at her. "Hell yeah, baby," she said, handing Rochelle a bottle. "I ain't no liar."**

**"Yeah, yeah," Diesel said from behind her. "Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much. You ain't that good."**

**Rolling her eyes, she passed Diesel the bottle of whiskey she had finagled out of Bane's hand. "Here you go, Diesel. Now, why don't you slip into something more comfortable? You know, like a coma?"**

**Diesel shot her a look, but didn't say anything, busy with the whiskey. They spent the next half-hour partying and drinking. Bri was enjoying her new found celebrity status that the free booze had brought her. She was so busy flirting with the guys and downing shots of moonshine, at first she didn't notice the disturbance at the head of the lot they dominated.**

**"Hey man," one of the older gang members called. "You lost or something?"**

**The words had such an opposite feeling than the party that Bri just had to look. Her blood ran cold, and her fist froze on the bottle she still clenched in her hand. It was Bane, looking angrier than she had ever seen him.**

**"Where's that bitch?" he called loudly, bringing all other conversations to a halt. "Where's the bitch that stole my booze?"**

**Nobody answered him. For being such a tough talking gang, most of the members weren't older than fifteen. And now they were faced with one big, angry, pissed off mother-fucker. Bane scanned the crowd slowly, stopping when his bloodshot eyes saw her and his bottle. "You think you can steal from me?"**

**She got up, letting the bottle hit the ground. Her eyes were wide, a sarcastic remark noticeably missing from her lips. "You think I'm gonna let some punk assed bitch steal my booze?" he repeated, drawing close to her. Not giving her the chance to explain, he slapped her; _hard._**

**She fell, skidding on the broken pavement and wincing as shards of glass and gravel embedded itself in her skin. She rolled to her knees, not taking her eyes off of Bane to watch as Diesel and his gang hightailed it out of there. For all the smack they talked, none of them was willing to stick around and risk a beating, least of all for her.**

**Bane grabbed her black hair and dragged her to her feet. "You're gonna pay," he hissed at her, close enough so she could smell the booze on his breath. He smacked her again, holding onto her hair so she couldn't fall and get away from him.**

**Normally she would have just taken it, let him punch and fight until he tired and left her alone. Today, she was sick of it. Sick of being beat up, sick of being treated like an animal from him, and everybody else. She slammed her fist into his chest, forcing him back a couple paces. She followed that up with a kick to the chest that almost knocked him to his knees.**

**She almost started in on him again, fueled by rage and pain. Before she had time to raise her fist, his hand went to his waist, and he pulled a pistol on her. She froze, staring at the cool glinting barrel, wondering if he'd really pull the trigger.**

**"You fucking _bitch_," he snapped at her, one hand on his chest where she punched him. "You think you can get away with shit like that? I'll teach you some damn respect."**

**He waved the gun around as he spoke, never keeping it centered on her for more than a few seconds. She backed down fast, watching the gun with slightly panicked eyes. With all the beatings she had taken over the years, he had never once pulled a gun on her. This was new territory, and she wasn't sure where he was planning to take this, or if he even had a plan in mind.**

**He continued his stream of degrading curses and insults. She tuned them out, busy watching the gun. He stepped closer, and she didn't think- she reacted.**

**Lunging forward, she grabbed his firing arm and forced it upwards, gaining control of the weapon. Before he had a chance to react, she wrenched the gun out of his hand. She turned it back on him, holding the gun steady with two hands.**

**He froze, his alcohol drenched brain taking a moment too long to process the scene in front of him. Bri could feel by the weight of the gun that it was loaded, but she had no idea if it had a round chambered or not. By the look on Bane's face, he didn't remember either. "Don't," she spat at him, motioning with the gun as she backed away one step at a time. "If you slap me, if you _touch_ me again, I will kill you."**

**This was the pivotal moment in her young life. She had finally had enough of being slapped around and beaten on. She decided to take control of her own life, for better or worse. She decided, right then and there, that she would never again be a victim.**

**He watched her, stunned. She wondered what he was going to do. He surprised her by laughing. "Alright," he said, holding his hands up. "Fine. I'm done with you. See if you can make it in the real world." He stopped laughing, but he still had a grin on his face. "But if I _ever_ see your ugly face again, you better pray to whatever God you believe in, cause I'm gonna arrange the meeting. And I _will_ make it painful, and I _will_ make you suffer."**

**She didn't answer him, but the hands holding the pistol shook slightly. Keeping her sights trained on him, she backed up a step at a time until she reached the perimeter of the vacant lot. He let her go, still laughing in his slightly maniacal way. She gave him one last look before turning around and running in the opposite direction, knowing that the echo of his laughter would haunt her for years to come. She stuffed the gun in the pack still hanging around her shoulders, trying to put as much distance between her and Bane as possible before night fell on the city.**

**For the first time in her life, she was completely and totally alone.**

* * *

I shook my hair out, feeling the wet strands pelt my face with luke-warm drops of water. I was in the showers on base, and luckily I had the place to myself. Sam had attempted to stay, but eventually the smell of day-old vomit drove her out of the washrooms. She had left with Cole to prepare the tank for the mission. He seemed glad to have her, promising me he'd take care of her. He had winked before he left, saying he was going to get me more 'firepower'. He had left before I could ask him what he meant.

My clothes were laying in a sodden pile in a sink, and I had changed into the only other clothes I owned; a black tank top and a pair of beige cargos. Luckily, the putrid stuff hadn't reached my boots, and it washed right off of my jacket, leaving behind only the faintest smell of rotten eggs.

Baird had given me fifteen minutes tops to shower and change before he'd leave without me. I didn't seriously think he would, but I decided not to push him. I ran my fingers through my wet hair, feeling them catch on tangles and pull on the dark locks. I watched myself in the mirror, still not used to the novelty of being able to look at myself in any reflective material _worth_ looking into. Shaking my head at the woman in the mirror, I bent to tie my boot's laces.

Still squatting, I heard the door open but didn't see who had entered. "Hold on," I called out to them, pulling the laces tight before wrapping them once around my ankle. "I'll be out of your way in a sec."

"Oh, no rush," somebody called out, and I froze. It was a _man's_ voice. Jumping to my feet, my hand immediately went to my holster. My _missing _holster. My pack, my sniper, and my pistol where all laying in a pile next to the shower stall- across the room, where I had taken them off. _Shit..._I thought to myself, and my eyes flickered to the intruder.

It was the same gear from breakfast, the one I had almost had fought at the cafeteria sinks. That same damn smile was in place as he nonchalantly reached over and clicked the bathroom door locked.

It was just me and him now. No Marcus, no Sam, and no way out.

He kicked the pile of weapons, giving it an unimpressed nod of the head. "You know," he said conversationally, "I couldn't believe my eyes yesterday when I saw you walk in with Delta squad. A piece of Stranded scum? Here?"

My hands curled into fists as I searched for a way out, never taking my eyes off of him for longer than a second. He strode toward me casually, not in a rush. He cracked his knuckles and then his neck, and I could see he was preparing for a fight. "I don't like Stranded," he said. "You wanna know why?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "I had a wife, a little girl. They're dead now. Weren't killed by locust. Not by the Hammer strikes, not by disease, not even by food shortages. They were _slaughtered_ by pieces of Stranded scum, like yourself." His eyes narrowed, but he kept a small smirk on his lips, as if he was amused by the situation. "And now, I'm gonna slaughter you like you did my family."

I managed to duck the first punch by back stepping quickly, but then he swung his boot around and knocked me on my ass. He swung his foot back and then kicked at me, hard enough to break bones. I barely managed to spin out of the way and back to my feet. I held my fists in front of me in a defensive maneuver, but it would probably end up meaning nothing. He could punch through my arms if it so struck him to do so.

I ran for the door, crying out when he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back. The wet locks sliding out of his grasp saved me from getting my face slammed into the wall. I kicked at him, which he sidestepped easily; grabbing me from behind the neck.

He used his handhold on my neck to toss me around like a rag doll. I took one hard slam to the wall and another to the stall door before I managed to wrench myself out of his grasp. I landed a punch on his jaw, hard enough to make his head snap back. Unfortunately, his reach was longer than mine. Before I could dance away, he grabbed both of my arms, yanking me closer to him.

Fighting to pull my wrist out of his grasp, I kicked at him desperately. _Calm down!_ I heard Ace's voice coach me. _Use his weight against him. He's bigger than you, but not smarter. Use that to your advantage._ Taking one calming breath, I stopped trying to pull myself out of his grasp. Instead, I used his grip on my arms to pull myself upward, until I could wrap my legs around him in a vertical guard.

He didn't realize the trap he was in until it was too late. He let go of my arms to remove my legs from his waist, and I repeatedly punched him in the face. I felt his nose break against my fist, and he groaned. As he tried to grab my arms again, I sprang away from him, sprinting towards the door.

I had almost made it to the door when I felt him grab the strap of my tank top. Turning with the momentum his yank afforded me, I slammed my elbow into his face. He roared wordlessly at me, his face contorted in rage. Obviously, he didn't expect me to sever as such violent prey. This was different than the fight with Baird. That was just instinct, over and done with as quick as my temper flared. That, and Baird had been focusing on ending the fight, not killing me.

_Too close..._I thought to myself frantically. I was standing too close to him, and couldn't get away before he slammed his fist into my face.

I stumbled back, falling to my knees. My vision went black around the edges, as flashes of light danced in the air in front of me. I gasped for breath as my mind screamed at me to get up. I tried to stand, but my legs went out from under me. I was on all fours, trying to gather the strength to stand as he slowly stalked towards me.

"It's time to finish this," he said, and he cracked his knuckles once more.

I only had the energy to gasp a muffled "_No_..." He grabbed me around the neck, pulling me up until my feet floated half a foot above the tiled floor. He slammed me into the wall with one hand, pulling a knife with his other. I swallowed hard. _This is it..._

Just then, the bathroom banged open as someone booted it in. There was a flash of movement as my rescuer tackled the assailant. He dropped me, concerned with defending himself from the new threat. I sank to my knees, gasping for breath and rubbing my sore throat.

I ignored the new fight, crawling across the floor until I reached my guns. I pulled out my pistol, training it on the mosh-pit of flailing limbs and punches. Someone finally got control of the fight and yanked the murderous gear to his feet. "Get your sorry ass out of here!" a familiar voice snarled. I blinked, surprised.

..._Baird?_

The gear obviously was in over his head, and he knew it. He shoved Baird's hands away from him, sending me a scathing look. "This isn't over," he spat at me, and Baird shoved him towards the door.

"Yes it is," Baird said. "Cause if I ever see you around here again, I _will_ kill you."

Baird gave him one last shove out of the door before kicking the it shut behind him. The door stayed closed, probably out of fear. Baird was breathing hard, glowering at the door before turning to me. "Holy hell," he said. "Do you always pick fights with guys twice your size, or is this a new hobby of yours?"

I sent him a scathing look, but didn't answer him. For a long moment, it was all I could do to breathe. I concentrated on the air flowing in, then out, then in. After I had that part mastered, I worked on getting up off the dingy floor. It took me a few heartbeats to remember how to move my legs, and even then they were shaky and threatened to collapse under me. Finally I made it to my feet, leaning on my sniper for balance. Baird didn't offer to help me up, but he did bend down and grab my pack. He eyed me cautiously. "You gonna live?

I nodded, massaging my throat. "I'll be fine." My voice was tight and raspy, and I took a drink of water to help clear it. Feeling the fear and panic set in after the initial adrenaline rush, I looked for something to distract me before I could lament on how close a call that was. My eyes settled on the door. "You broke the lock."

His blue eyes flickered over to the door, then back to me. "Yeah, well I fixed the thing in the first place. Guess I reserve the right to break it whenever I damn well please."

I shrugged slightly, wincing when it pulled my neck the wrong way. I gave him a mildly frustrated look. "You couldn't have gotten here _five minutes _earlier?"

He sneered, "Hey, just be glad I was here at all. I _told_ you, fifteen minutes and I'm leaving without you. You're just lucky Cole likes you."

Rolling my eyes, I said, "Great, well thanks for the help. Now, if I throw a stick, will you go away?" I had a massive headache, my knuckles were throbbing and bleeding, and all I wanted was to be alone for a minute to collect myself. I could feel the after-shakes coming, and I didn't want Baird to see me weak.

He started to say something, paused, and then nodded once. "That was a good one," he said appreciatively.

"Glad you enjoyed it," I deadpanned.

It was quiet for a moment while we both tried to think of something to stay. I had just started limping for the door when I heard Baird ask, "Who taught you how to fight?"

"What?" I asked, trying to follow the change in conversation.

He motioned towards the wall that still had a streak of blood down it- my blood. "I've seen Ramos fight before. You have to be pretty decent to still be alive."

_Alive_, I thought to myself. _Well, that's debatable._ I eyed him, wondering whether or not to tell the truth. "Ace," I finally answered him. "Private Ace Martinez. He taught me how to defend myself against bigger opponents, among other things."

Baird nodded once, accepting my answer, before switching topics. "Come on," he said. "Cole and Dom will nag me to death if I don't get you do a doc."

I really didn't want to go back to the clinic, but my throat wasn't up for arguing. He wrenched the door open with some difficulty, then walked through first. He didn't check to see if I was following. I thought about just heading over to the garages where the rest of Delta would probably be, then I remember my pack that he still carried. Sighing, I set off after him.

_A day with the infamous Damon Baird. What a treat..._

I followed along behind him, not speaking. My head was pounding, and my cheek stung from where it had been slammed into the wall repeatedly. Still, it beat the hell out of being dead. I felt dismayed when I realized I had Baird to thank for that. I swallowed my pride and said "Thanks, for…you know…"

He looked at me, surprised. "Thanks for what?" he asked. He seemed to me as the guy who didn't get appreciation often, keeping people at bay with his sharp tongue and sarcasm. That was something I could understand.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Oh, nothing. Just for saving my life, that's all."

"Oh," he said. I blinked, waiting for a sarcastic comeback. Maybe a 'Yeah, don't remind me', or an 'Maybe I shouldn't have bothered.' I grew worried when he didn't respond. His blue eyes were dark, and the lopsided sneer I'd begun to associate with him was noticeably missing.

"We're even now," was all he said.

My eyebrows knitted together. "Even how?" I asked.

He grunted, exasperated, and I realized that he didn't want to have this conversation any more than I did. The muscle on his jaw flexed as he answered. "You saved my ass twice. I just paid you back in full."

It took me a second, but then I realized what he was talking about. When we had first 'met', I had shot past Baird with my sniper, killing a grub that had been sneaking up on his six. Later, I had mirrored the shot while in the abandoned research facility. That fact must have bothered him, just as it bothered me to have Marcus and Dom looking out for me.

I gave him a small smile, signaling that I understood. "I don't know…" I drawled. "Maybe you owe me one more. I did spare your life in the fight this morning."

He snorted. The sarcastic banter was much more his style, and he easily switched gears. "Yeah, well...I could have shot you in the Centaur when you were robbing us blind. I repeat, we're even.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I could shoot you now."

"No you couldn't," he answered immediately, smirking at me. "You wouldn't shoot an unarmed man."

Without hesitating, I pulled my pistol with my right hand. Immediately, he grabbed my wrist and held my firing arm above my head, using the bulk of his body to push me against the hallway wall. We stayed there for a beat, pressed against each other while his warm, rough hands held my wrists above my head. All my senses were filled with him; his blue eyes watching me from underneath raised eyebrows, his scent filling my lungs, his blond hair with a pair of goggles perched on top. For some odd reason, I didn't react. Maybe because of his actions in the bathroom, I didn't feel in danger as I was trapped, pressed against the wall by his muscular body. He gently plucked the pistol out of my grip, and I let him take it without fighting him.

I gave him a small smile. "Doesn't count. You were expecting it."

"I'm always expecting it," he said, moving away from me. The hallway felt drafty and cold without his warm body next to mine.

That was probably true. Gears had battle-hardened reflexes. They could react to a threat in the blink in the eye. The ones who couldn't were dead now. "Yes, please tell me how much better you are than everyone. I _never_ tire of hearing it.

He nodded, handing me my pistol grip-first. "Hmm...how about the fact that I know almost everything about almost everything?"

I rolled my eyes, holstering the weapon. "Screw you, Baird."

He laughed as he opened the door to the clinic. "Yeah, okay. Screw you too, Bri."

He ducked inside the clinic, calling out an "Who do I have to shoot to get a doctor around here?" I paused, trying to tamp down the grin I felt working its way onto my lips.

It was the first time he called me by my name, and not just 'that damned Stranded chick', and that small detail made me happier than it should have.

* * *

The doctors cleared me after a short examination. Surprisingly, Baird had stuck around while the doctors did their poking/prodding bit. We walked back to the garages together, Baird saying some colorful things to Marcus over the radio, questioning his manhood and telling him to do some pretty interesting things with his lancer when Marcus asked what was taking so damn long.

Dom and Cole, as predicted, almost had joint heart attacks when they saw my face, mottled with fresh bruises. Before I could explain, Dom went after Baird, threatening him with a ton of remarkable things he would do to his anatomy if Baird ever laid a hand on me again. I found his tirade amusing, but Baird cut him off early, explaining what exactly had happened. I shrugged off their concern, telling them that I didn't need them 'mothering' me like a bunch of old hens. That made them back off pretty fast.

Cole had fulfilled his promise of getting me some more 'firepower', and my new lancer rested between my legs. At first I had refused, but I found that Cole never took 'no' for an answer. That was what happened when an unstoppable force met an unmovable object. The unmovable object got a new gun. He teased me and made me feel guilty until I accepted the extravagant gift. We did a quick How-Not-To-Chop-Your-Foot-Off-Or-Shoot-Baird-In-The-Ass lesson, and I felt comfortable with the weapon. I had shot lancers before, with Ace, but I was a bit rusty. The lancer was a difficult gun to shoot, with the chainsaw bayonet making it front-heavy. I had a lot of upper body strength; you didn't last long on the streets if you didn't. I was still a bit unwieldy with it, hopefully I wouldn't have to use it much on our first mission out.

We were riding along in the Centaur as Baird drove, heading to where I could only assume Nexus was, the locust capital city. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. On one hand, I was excited to finally be doing something important, something that could actually make a difference. On the other, I was scared shitless. I was woefully unprepared for this undertaking. I'm sure locating and attacking an enemies' city sounded fun and easy when you were six-foot, two-hundred something pounds, and wearing enough armor that could break another man's bones if applied with sufficient force. But being five-five, a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet? That plan lost a bit of its glow.

Of course, this only made me wonder why the hell I was with Delta in the first place. Other members of the squad, namely Baird, had expressed these curiosities as well. Marcus just silenced them with a stern look and a gruff "She's staying." From time to time I found those calculating ice-blue eyes watching me, trying to unravel me like a puzzle. I was half tempted to hold out my arms and yell at him, "What? What's so interesting about me? What you see is what you get, now will you leave me alone?" but of course I didn't.

It was mostly quiet on the drive north. Occasionally they'd throw around some well-meaning barbs, but everybody was distracted, psyching themselves up for the mission ahead. We had gotten a late start, with the 'bathroom brawl' as Baird called it, and Cole's inopportune lancer lesson. It was now late afternoon, and the sun was just starting to think about sinking, casting faint shadows through the Centaur's windows. I was pressed to the door in the backseat, rammed in next to Dom who sat next to Marcus. Cole had claimed shotgun, and nobody protested it. Eyeing his enormous bulk, I could understand why. Sam was laying in the rear cargo hold, slowly adjusting to the shake and rumble of the tank.

My head pounded incessantly as I rested it on the mettle side of the tank. My stitches from the fall out of the building burned from being aggravated so much these past couple days. I knew instinctively that there would be a huge hand print bruise flowering on my sore neck. I felt Sam pop her head up above the head rest, gently placing her head on my shoulder. I gave her a weak smile, rubbing her ears. "Good girl," I whispered, and she licked my face. Somehow she sensed my mood, and was there to cheer me up. I gave her a few more pats before commanding her to lay down. She halfway obeyed; choosing to sit against the back of my seat.

I slowly spun the chain on my bayonet as the miles passed unendingly beneath our tires. It was a hell of a lot faster than walking, but being encased in something, even something as sturdy as the Centaur, made me feel uneasy. It was the feeling of having nowhere to run if push came to shove. I preferred to have my boots on the ground, and the sky within eyesight whenever possible. That, and the slightly nauseating rocking of the tires didn't help things much. Feeling slightly sick, I popped open the turret hatch for a breath of fresh air, and to get a feel for my surroundings.

It took me a minute to orient myself, but when I did I was left feeling sicker than ever. _Oh no…_I thought to myself. "Baird?" I questioned, the slightest tone of panic evident only to me.

His stark "Whaddya want?" came from the drivers seat.

"Stop the tank."

He didn't slow. "What? _Why_?" he asked.

I ducked back into the cabin to yell at him. "Because I said so!" I snapped, thumping the back of his chair once with my hand. "Now do it!"

I missed his snide remark as I popped back up through the hatch, eyes straining to see into the urban jungle of abandoned and degraded buildings. Before he completely stopped, I reached down to grab my new lancer. I hefted myself out of the tank, jumping down the sides and landing with a quiet _thump!_

I did a slow scan of the territory surrounding me and the tank. I didn't see anybody, but I knew they were there. I heard somebody get out of the tank to back me up, but I motioned for them to stay there.

Stalking forward, my light boot falls were the only sound on the abandoned street. It was calm; nobody shouting or screaming, no shaking ground signaling a grub incursion, no nothing. That was what worried me.

"Hey!" I yelled, as loud as my still-sore throat would allow. "Don't shoot! It's me!"

Nobody responded, but I knew instinctively that they heard. I could point out every single one of the guard stations that had eyes on us, although I couldn't actually see them. I knew where they were, cause I had spent hours helping set them up and man them.

Dom walked up on my six. "Bri?" he asked hesitantly. "Wanna fill us in?"

I didn't answer, waiting for someone to come out and meet us. _They _knew where I was, just as well as I knew where we were. This place had been my refuge, and my home, ever since I had been strong-armed out of Jacinto.

We were at the Stranded camp.

**Author's Note- Whoo! Another chapter, baby! ...And now I sound like Cole.**

**Sorry for the wait, but this _is_ my longest chapter back, by far. Please excuse any errors you find; I didn't get a chance to have this beta'd. I wanted to have this out asap, seeing as the next chapter is almost finished. Nobody's fault, and I'm sure you can dismiss a spelling error here or there for the chance to have this _now_, instead of a week from now. **

**Anything you want to see happen? I'm planning to put more Sam in, just cause she's been taking a back seat lately. That, and she's too awesome of a character to not be in the limelight every once in a while. And what about Baird? Is he finally coming around? Maybe there's hope for Blondie yet!**

******And here it is. Me shamelessly pleading for reviews and feedback. **Please, please, please leave a review! You guys have no idea how happy they make me! This is my most reviewed/favorited story yet. And I accept unsigned reviews, so you don't even have to log in! Just make sure you leave me your pen name, and I'll make sure you get the preview you deserve! Thank you! 


	9. Rival Arrival

Stranded Camp

Present Day

_There's not many human beings who can love like that. Gears, mainly. It's why we know what it really means to be human. It's more than family. It's civilization. What's best in humanity. Even Baird, the inbred little shit. Funny, that, for a bunch of bastards who'll carve another living creature with a chainsaw." _

— _Sergeant Bernadette Mataki, telling Dominic Santiago about his brother, Carlos._

I motioned for everybody to get out of the Centaur. Cole let Sam out the back, and she immediately went to my side, sensing the tense atmosphere. Nobody at the camp liked the COG, but I was hoping that they'd recognize me and not immediately fire upon the squad. Normally, the Stranded and the gears could coexist _almost_ peacefully, with an understanding of their mutual disgust for each other. This was different. We were on Dix's territory. Stranded territory. The general consensus was that they'd leave us alone, we'd leave them alone. The two worlds should never mingle.

I wasn't sure how to proceed. We were about three-hundred yards from the camp's gates, definitely in range. The only options were to retreat or press on towards the camp. "Baird," I called quietly, "Is this the only way to Nexus?"

He had to check the map once more. "Yep," he answered. "Now you wanna explain what's going on?"

I curbed the instinct to check my magazines and the chainsaw's tension, deciding that those weren't exactly friendly gestures. Sighing, I motioned up the street, where the gate was partially hidden, invisible to those who didn't know it was there. "There's a Stranded camp up that way, right where we wanna go."

"Alright then," Baird said. "Stranded scum, or _tank_. I'm liking our odds here."

I whirled to face him, my temper flaring. "You can't do that!"

"And why not?" he countered.

"Because-" I paused. What _was _stopping us from busting down the gates with the Centaur? _Because they're people_, an inner voice answered me. _Because this is your home_.

"Let's not resort to pillaging and burning just yet," Marcus said, joining the conversation. He gave me a look. "You know them?"

I nodded, glancing over my shoulder to make sure they hadn't sent the welcome wagon yet. "This is Dix's camp. They don't like gears, but Dix is pretty reasonable. Let me talk to them, get us access to the camp. They won't like it, but they'll probably let us pass."

Marcus nodded once. "Then that's the plan. It's 'hearts and minds' time people, try not to piss anybody off any more than we have to." He looked at Baird, "Stay here with the Centaur, and be ready to move if this doesn't go well."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "We need to show a united front; let them check you guys out. Splitting numbers and keeping a tank on our ass doesn't exactly inspire trust."

"Wait a second," Baird said, folding up the map. "You want us to walk in there, and leave ourselves victim to their 'good graces'?"

"Dix's camp is filled with families- women and children. They won't want to start a firefight any more than we do." I shot him a look, "And we _don't_ want to start a firefight."

Baird snarled at me before turning to Marcus. "Man, you can't be serious! We're just going to head right in there and let them eat us alive?"

"Looks like that's the plan," Marcus said, letting his gun hang from one hand. He gave me a meaningful look, one full of faith and confidence. _Holy crap_, I thought to myself._ He actually trusts me to get them through this._

Baird had a few more choice words to say about this idea. He did _not_ want to leave the tank, and he especially did _not_ want to put himself in the position of trusting Stranded. Cole didn't look too enthused about the idea either, but he would go along with whatever Marcus said. "Let's go," I said, my voice sounding more confident than I actually was.

I took point, hoping that they'd see me before they saw the huge, hulking gears right on my ass. It was silent on the walk up to the compound's gate; the only noise the occasional scrape of metal boots on scattered patches of concrete. I stopped a hundred yards from the gate, and I could sense Delta do the same.

"Darvish!" I called. "Open the gate! It's me, Bri!"

Darvish's head popped up from behind cover. He looked, and his eyes opened wide when he saw Delta. "Holy shit!" I saw him mouth, before ducking down out of sight.

"Shit..." I said quietly. Sprinting forward, I hollered "Darvish! You sound the alarm and I'm shooting!"

For a moment, nothing happened. I stopped running, wondering what was going to happen next. "Yeah," I heard Darvish say, "Cause _that_ makes me feel so much better!" He stood, holding his hammerburst at the ready. He eyed Marcus and the rest of the squad before turning his beady eyes on me. "Damnit Bri," he said. "Yo' realize yo' got an asshole parade following ya'?"

I relaxed slightly. As long as I could keep Darvish talking, there probably wouldn't be a fight. "That's what I need to talk to Dix about. He in?"

Delta still waited a hundred yards out, too far away to hear our conversation. "Yeah, he's here." He adjusted his hammerburst. "Listen, they giving ya' trouble? We'll take care of 'em for ya', if that's what needs doing."

"No, man," I said, slightly surprised. Of all the people of the camp, Darvish was the one I least expected to have my back. "They're all right. We really need to speak to Dix. It's important."

He deliberated, watching Delta with untrusting eyes. He cursed, shaking his head. "All right," he said, reaching for the gate controls. "If they stupid enough to pull some shit in the camp, then they deserve to be shot. Natural selection, and all that."

Ignoring that last part, I waved for Delta to join me. They didn't exactly hurry, but at least they didn't drag their feet. "Cole," I faintly heard Marcus say before their conversation would become privy to the rest of the camp. "Look friendly and take point."I shook my head once, but decided not to push it. Cole was the biggest in the group, and I didn't care if he was wearing a Santa suit and singing 'Kum-Bah-Yah', the man just wasn't going to pull off friendly.

Darvish opened the gates, a bit narrower than necessary; probably to make the gears enter one at a time. Taking a deep breath, I ducked into the compound. There were the standard pair of guards residing at the gate's entrance, but now they looked agitated, and were sending for backup. I could see the wave of panic take over the camp as the news was quickly passed around. Around here, the COG was a thing to be feared, almost as much as the locust. Many had lost family to the Hammer strikes, were running from the birthing farms, or were born into the camp and had their fear passed down to them. And, as per human nature, that fear turned to anger.

Cole squeezed through the narrow opening, and flashed a brilliant smile to all in sight. "Whoo!" he called, "Cole Train's got to fit through a tiny tunnel!"

I almost told him to shut up, but something else caught my attention. Giving him a confused look, I mouthed "Cole Train?" He winked, but didn't answer, moving aside for Marcus.

The rest of Delta emerged, forming a heavily-armed line behind me. In front of me, a line of pissed-off Stranded guards formed; mostly men. They flung insults at them, and I listened for a second, giving them time to tire.

"What are you assholes doing here?"

"You wanna kill some more innocent people? The Hammer strikes didn't do enough for you?"

"You're _not _taking my Beth back to the farms! I'll kill you first!"

"Get out! Go back where you came from!"

"You're not welcome here!"

I let the insults pass over me like a furious wave. I held my hands up for silence, fighting down a grunt of disbelief when I imagined the scene. Me, this five-foot-nothing kid protecting a squad of six-foot, ten-ton giants from this mob of angry, starving, and scared people. "Shut it!" I yelled. It took a few moments, but eventually it calmed enough for me to talk.

"Where is Dix?" I asked the front row of angry camp members. Instead of getting the answer I was looking for, I got a lot of scornful and angry looks.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Bri?" a man asked me. "You should know better than this!"

"It's important, Erik!" I answered him. "We just need permission to move through the camp, and up to the mountain. Now, if I could just speak to Dix..."

There was a parting in the sea of people, and Dix emerged. He looked over the scene with a cool calculating scan of his brown eyes. His heavy-lidded gaze wandered over the four gears standing at the ready behind me. The crowd at his back quieted, allowing Dix to take control of the situation. He adjusted his scarred and crudely-made leather jacket, revealing a .45 stuck in the waist of his camouflage cargos. His sharp eyes flickered over to me, and his mouth tightened. "God damnit Bri…what did they do to you?"

It wasn't until he spoke up I remembered all the injuries I had gathered over the past few days. The most visible ones were from the fight in the bathroom with the asshole gear. I tenderly touched my cheek, and it throbbed where my fingers rested. The flesh was hot and rough, and a few flakes of skin shredded off at my touch. I had no idea how bad it looked, however. The luxury of mirrors were back at the COG, far from this minimalist society.

I gave him a tiny smirk. "I fell." A few people gave a breath of laughter; I wasn't the most graceful person in the camp. My balance skills were the stuff of legends, and the broken, cracked pavement didn't do anything to help matters.

"Fair enough," Dix said, eyes dark. I could tell he didn't buy my excuse. "You wanna explain what's going on here?"

I motioned vaguely behind me. "They're on a mission, and they need passage to Mount Kadar. There is a Locust stronghold there. The COG's planning to find their main city, and drill down to it." I gave him a pleading look, "This could mean the end of the war, Dix!"

He snorted, and I could tell he wasn't going to budge. He did a wide sweeping of the camp with one arm. "You see this? All these people? They're all running from the COG." He said 'COG' like it was a four-letter word. "It's_ my _job to keep them safe. You say they want to find the Locust stronghold? Then what? What happens when I have the entire damn COG army beating down my door? What do I tell them then?"I remained silent. I hadn't thought that far ahead. "And another thing," Dix continued. "What happens when they piss the Locust off? Then the only thing between the Locust and the COG is this camp. I _will not_ put these people in that position."

For a long beat, nobody said anything. Most of the Stranded were watching me, wondering if I'd back down. The others were watching Delta with distrust, fearful that they'd force their way through the camp anyway. I heard a frustrated sigh, and Baird muttered, "Should have brought the tank..."

The crowd parted again, and a small woman slowly made her way to the head of the standoff. "Out of my way," she said, and everyone obliged. "For crying out loud, acting like a bunch of animals here." She was shorter than most, and her hair was streaked with grey. Despite her wrinkled and beaten-down body, she held herself pride fully, as if defying the effect time had on her. She ushered a guard out of her way before coming to a stop besides Dix. I grinned, and Sam wagged her tail. It was Momma.

Nobody said a word as Momma's dull eyes observed the four gears standing behind me. When she spoke, her voice was loud and full so everyone would hear. "History teaches us that men and nations behave rationally once all other options have been exhausted." She paused, then shook her head. "Let's try to come up with a reasonable solution here, _now,_ and not get caught up in a pissing contest."

"Dix," she began, turning to the man standing beside her. "You say that if you let one COG squad through, you'll have to send the whole army through. But what if there is no Locust stronghold? There will be no harm done. But what if there is?" she posed the question to him. "How long do you think we can remain here while the Locust literally live on our doorstep? Is it not better to let the COG fight them, then have us fight?"

Baird snorted quietly; probably amused that she thought the COG would be fighting for 'us'. I, however, understood what she was getting at. The COG would send trained soldiers, with plenty of ammo and reinforcements. If the locust attacked here, the results would be devastating. Our armada was woefully unprepared to handle a full-on attack.

"Then what would you have me do?" Dix asked her. "I swore to protect the members of this camp from the COG. Do you want me to just let them take over our turf?"

She laughed, as if even addressing the matter was ridiculous. "Dix, it's not like they're asking us to join the Coalition, they just want permission to pass through the camp."

There was the slight matter of the Centaur, but I decided that now might not be the best time to bring that up. "Dix, come on. This could be the end of the locust! Do _you_ want to be the reason for humanity's downfall?"

"Well, when you put it like _that_," he drawled sarcastically. He eyed the gears once more before sighing. "I guess it's okay, as long as they don't cause trouble."

I relaxed slightly, not even realizing I was tense. I gave Mamma a quick smile, which she returned. Most of the camp members gave a disgusted sigh and left the importune meeting. Dix shook his head. "Only you, Bri."

I blinked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked him.

Before he could answer, the four gears at my back, almost forgotten till now, stirred. Marcus walked up till he stood on my left. "We'll need the gate opened," he said in that same low grumble, getting straight down to business.

Mamma answered him, watching the sun quickly sink in the west. "Nonsense. It would be suicide to try going up the mountain at this time of day. You wouldn't get ten miles until dark. Plus, we need to inform our men upriver so they don't attack you on sight. I guess the only sensible decision is for you to spend the night here."

"Oh, yes. Sensible," Dix quipped. He rolled his eyes, giving the squad a dismissive wave of his hand. "Do what you will. Apparently I'm no longer in control here, anyway."

We watched him as he strode away, walking with purpose to take on whatever problem dared darken the camp's doorstep. Mamma waited until he was out of earshot before laughing quietly. "That man is entirely too full of himself."

"Tell me about it," I murmured, but he wasn't as bad as some current company. "Oh, by the way," I said to her, turning to face Delta. "This is Marcus, Cole, Dom, and the _real_ ugly bastard is Baird."

"Oh, ha-ha," Baird deadpanned, giving me a death-glare.

Mamma cut him off before he could really get going. "Nice to meet you. Sorry you had to suffer through our welcome wagon," she greeted them all with a nod of the head before turning her faded brown eyes to me. "They're preparing for dinner."

"I'll help," I volunteered immediately. Mealtime at the camp was the one time when everybody came together and worked for the good of the camp. Everybody contributed in some way; whether that meant growing crops, hunting wild game, or cooking. I felt guilty that I hadn't contributed much in the past week, and nothing for the past three days. "What do they need me to do?"

"I think they were saying they needed another server," she said, dismissing me to my job. She turned to Delta. "You're welcome to stay for dinner. It's not much, but feel free to help yourself." She clicked her fingers and Sam left with her, sniffing her pockets for a treat. I rolled my eyes, smiling a tad bit. Mamma could spoil Sam the way I never could, and it made me happy to see them getting along.

The 'kitchens' were in a collapsed building next to the river. All the rubble had been taken away, and the tile floor way perfect for building fires to cook food. The half-standing walls kept the wind out of the fire, and there was just enough roof left to keep rain and snow away, but not choke everybody with smoke. Inside, there were two camp stoves set up with giant bubbling cauldrons set up on top. There was enough room for servers to stand behind the fires comfortably and, when necessary, for four large gears to stand awkwardly behind them.

There was a group of people mingling outside the kitchens, and they fell silent when Delta and I approached. Ignoring the stunned silence, I headed for the camp fires. The heat filled the small room. The world was slowly turning cold again, just in time for Frost. I hated the colder weather, and dreaded its return every year.

"Hey, Jared!" I called to one of the servers. "I'll take over here."

He sent me a dark look, and then let the spoon fall back into the stew with a quiet _plop._ He turned without saying a word and left the kitchen. I halfway expected the rest of the kitchen staff to follow, but they remained. Everyone continued their chores, albeit quietly.

Dinner that night was venison stew, made with the last of the potatoes and carrots that we had grown. Most of the vegetables had already been salted, dried, or canned in preparation for the snows. The fresh food would be one last indulgence before succumbing to a diet of preserves and whatever could be hunted over the long, cold months.

I served spoonfuls into whatever containers the camp members had. Most passed by without saying a word, completely ignoring the gears at my back. A few whispered a thank you before turning and hastily leaving. And even fewer spoke to me, flashing me small smiles.

"Well, hello, Bri," called Hank, another camp member. He was one of the oldest here, and one of the kindest. I always felt saddened around him, especially since his disease had progressed further. Sheryl, the camp's doctor- who was little more than a pre E-day veterinarian- believed he had cancer, although she didn't have any way of proving her diagnosis. He had to be in unbearable pain most of the day, although he refused to show it. His wide smile and twinkling brown eyes would be sorely missed when he finally succumbed to his illness, although nobody had any idea when that would be.

I smiled at him, filling his bowl with the fragrant stew. "Hi there, Hank! How have you been?"

"Fine, fine, juss fine." He gave the gears behind me a look, then leaned in conspiratorially. "You keeping out of trouble, little miss?"

"Hank, you know me!" I teased. "When have I ever kept out of trouble?"

He laughed loudly, standing straight up. "True, true." He cut his eyes to the squad behind me. "You gentlemen have yourselves a nice night, now."

"You too, sir," Marcus said, and he managed to sound sincere. At least it was Marcus who answered, and not Baird.

Hank gave them a closer look, then froze. "Hey," he called out and I paused, wondering what was up. "You Augustus Cole? Number 83? _The_ Cole Train?"

Confused, I turned to look at Cole. He laughed, striding forward. "'Bout time somebody realized the Cole Train was in town! How you doing, baby?"

I had to be missing something. How did Hank know Cole? And it wasn't just Hank. Once other camp members heard Hank's outburst, they gave Cole a second look, and whispers started flying.

Cole found himself surrounded by a group of camp members, but they weren't angry. Quite the opposite. They were cheering him, shaking his hand and asking for autographs. I watched them, stunned. "…Somebody wanna fill me in?" I asked.

Marcus was watching their exchange with a blank face. "Cole was a thrashball star back before the war. Seems like people still remember him."I gave him a look. "What's 'thrashball'?"

He shook his head, not answering, and that's when I noticed Dom was missing. "Where's Dom?"

"He's searching for Maria," Marcus answered me, then changed subjects. "I need to have a talk with you later."

My brow furrowed, wondering what on Sera he could want to talk to me about. The answer hit me with the force of a ten-ton truck. _He didn't want me on the mission_. "Shit, that's okay," I said, trying to ignore the icy hand that had clenched my heart. "I'm sure there's other squads I can help out, snipe for them…"

He gave me a slightly perplexed look. "That's not what I meant. I need to talk to you and Dom later. It's important."

_Me and Dom? _I thought to myself, _What do we have to do with each other? _"Okay…" I drew the word out, still trying to ponder out why he needed to talk to us. I laid the ladle back in the stew, after serving up five bowls for Delta and me. I passed a bowl to Marcus, and tried to press one on Baird, but he just gave it a baleful look and strode past me. I rolled my eyes, dumping his bowl back into the stew. Passing Cole's bowl to Marcus, I informed him I was going to find Dom. Julie took over the serving station, keeping her head down and not looking at Marcus. He grunted, then went over to fight off some of Cole's fan club.

I found Dom in the center of the camp, showing around a worn photograph. He thrust it into the faces of camp members, asking them a question over and over again. Every time a camp member said no, his face fell a little bit. It wasn't until I was closer did I hear his frantic question. "Have you seen this woman? Her name's Maria."

He pressed the worn photograph onto Sabrina, a woman in the camp. She studied the picture for a second before shaking her head slowly.

While she was studying it, Dom's face was full of hope and expectations, as if his entire world would change if Sabrina said yes. His eyes dimmed when she shook her head, and he nodded slowly. Sadly. "Thank you," he said, his normally cheerful voice despondent.

I gave Sabrina a smile as I walked up, dismissing her. Dom perked up when he saw me, and tried to press the picture on me. "Here. This is the picture I was telling you about. Have you seen her?"

I pushed the picture back toward him without looking at it. "I'm not the person to ask. You need to talk to Momma. If Maria has _ever_ stepped foot in this camp, she'd know."

"Where's she at?" he questioned, looking around frantically. He was agitated, completely at odds with his normally calm and collected demeanor.

"She's probably over at her hut." I shot him a calming look. "Hey, it's okay. If Momma knows her, we'll find her. I promise."

His dark eyes searched my face. "Alright," he took a calming breath. "Sorry."

"Don't mention it," I told him. "Seriously, don't. I got a reputation to uphold." I passed off the bowls of stew to Sabrina, sensing that Dom wouldn't eat until we spoke to Momma.

He smiled slightly, and that same damn hopeful look took over his face. "Alright, then. Thank you, Bri."

I returned his smile, and then motioned in the direction of Momma's house. "Tell me about her."

"Maria? She was...she _is_ incredible," he started, his voice taking on a reverent tone. "She looks...a lot like you actually."

I rolled my eyes. "What, with brown hair and brown eyes? I hope you're a bit more specific when you talk to Momma, cause that includes half the women left on Sera."

He shifted his gaze to me, giving me a dry look. "Yeah, okay. Maria and I, we were neighbors as kids. We fell in love as teenagers. I got her pregnant when I was sixteen, and we married."

"Knocked up at sixteen?" I gave a low whistle. "Ever heard of a condom?"

He coughed dryly, "Yeah, yeah. You're not going to say anything I haven't heard before, so save it. I joined the army to support her and my son. A few years later we had a little girl." A soft look of deep-rooted pain passed over his face. "They both died on E-day."

His story was one of typical heartbreak. Almost everybody lost some - if not all - of their family on Emergence day, or later as the Locust slowly took over all of Sera. In fact, it was _more_ unusual to find somebody who hadn't lost a loved one to the war. "I know what you mean," I told him quietly, a trace of agony creeping into my voice. "I lost my whole family on E-day."

He looked like he was going to question me about this new revelation, so I hurriedly changed the subject by pointing out Momma's house. "Here we are," I muttered as a place holder, lifting my hand to the semi-rotten piece of wood that served as a door. I knocked lightly, halfway expecting my fist to go through it.

Momma answered. Sam was in the back of the room, chewing on a piece of jerky that had to be as hard as old boot leather. Momma's face was old and wrinkled, wind-beaten into the color and texture of leather. Her clothes were old and scruffy, having been patched and re-patched so many times that the original color was not discernible. Her arms were thin, and the skin sunk off the bones like drenched paper. Despite all this, her smile was warm, and her eyes twinkled at the both of us.

"Well," she said. "Ain't this a fine peck of pickles we've picked."

Dom blinked, not sure what to say. I rolled my eyes and ushered him into her small shack. Momma shifted the slab of wood to the side, keeping out the chill of the wind but leaving enough space for a sliver of light to sliver its way into the room. Sam stood within the shack, her tail wagging slightly side to side as the slab of jerky hung loosely from her jaw. There was no doubt that it would have taken the force of two ten-ton tanks to pry it from her teeth, however invitingly she held it.

Leaving Sam to her treat, I clapped Dom on the shoulder. "Momma, this is Dom. He's looking for his wife. Figured you'd be the person to ask."

She gave him a slow nod, motioning for him to have a seat. He eyed it cautiously, then declined. It was probably a good thing; the cot looked sturdy enough for Momma's fragile weight, but there was no way it would have supported the heft of a gear. Dom looked huge and obtruding in the small shack, and by the expression on his face, he knew it. He awkwardly passed the small photograph to Momma. "Have you seen this woman?"

Momma took the picture gently, gathering it delicately in both hands. She stood in silence for a long while, her watery brown eyes carefully taking in every detail of the picture. The room held its breath, Dom's anxiety taking over the small shack. His eyes were bright, and never detoured from Momma's face. He waited hopefully, faithfully, examining her face for some spark of recognition; a memory of a woman that was more than likely long-dead. Even Sam felt the tension and dropped to her stomach, watching the room with careful eyes, wondering who was going to try to steal away her prize.

Finally, _finally_, Momma sighed. She gave the photograph a mournful shake of her head, passing it back to Dom. "I'm sorry," she said, none of the usual light present in her voice. "I've never seen her before in my life."

Dom deflated, his shoulders sinking and his eyes dropping to the picture he once again held possessively in his hands. "Thank you for your time," he said. He was the picture of pitiful, and my heart gave a painful squeeze.

"Hey," I said quietly, "This is only _one _Stranded camp out of what, a thousand? She's out there, somewhere." I tried to ignore the lie that fell so easily from my lips.

He perked up, and his eyes searched my face with the same intensity Momma had given Dom's picture. "You think?"

I smiled wanly. "I know. When we finish this whole Nexus bit, I'll even help you find her."

His face creased into a grin, and the transformation from depressed, brooding Dom to happy-go-lucky Dom was complete. "Thanks, Bri," he said. He brought his hand up to ruffle my hair. I stood still, accepting, if not enjoying, the gesture of affection. I gave him a smile back, rolling my eyes as I readjusted my tussled hair. Watching him, so happy, so hopeful, I allowed myself a tiny spark of hope for him. Against all odds, he still believed he would see Maria again someday. There was something about this undeniable faith that made people want to _believe_ again.

"Yeah, well…I owed you one anyway." He looked confused, so I patted my holster in a knowing way, reminding him of the box of bullets he had lent me. He nodded once, signaling that he understood.

"How long has she been missing?" Momma asked Dom, changing the subject.

He didn't look at her, carefully packing away the picture into his chest plates. "She's been missing for about ten years. I _will_ find her one day."

Momma gave him a smile. "Of course you will, sweetie." I blinked, not believing she had just called him 'sweetie'. Dom didn't look like he minded however. "I'll be praying for the pair of you."

_That_ threw him for a second. I was used to Momma's insistence on religion, but even after all these years it still may me feel uncomfortable. Dom looked lost for a second, but quickly recovered. "I…thank you."

There was an awkward second, broken by a soft knock at the door. Dom shifted the slab of wood to the side, allowing Momma to greet the visitor. "Hello, there!" she called.

Whoever was at the door seemed surprised. "Evening, Ma'am," a familiar gruff voice answered, then paused, unsure of how to continue.

Sam evidently recognized the voice, and trotted out to greet him. The gear standing in the door ignored the shepherd, peering around Momma and into the shack. "Come on in, Marcus," I called. "Dom's in here."

Momma stopped him by placing her small hands on his chest plates. "Whoa, there," she said. "This place is about fit to burst. Let's move this party on outside, shall we?"

We vacated the small shack. Marcus' eyes immediately cut to Dom, asking a silent question. Dom shook his head slowly. It took me a second, but I realized Marcus was asking if he had found Maria.

"Hey, Marcus," I greeted him. "This is Momma." His blue eyes flickered to Momma's face, where she smiled and held her hand out. "Nice to meet you, Marcus."

Marcus shifted his gun to the side so he could return the gesture. He examined her with his probing eyes, looking slightly out of his depth. "Nice to meet you…Momma," he said. He looked over at me, and that reminded me of something.

"You said you needed to speak to me and Dom about something important?" I asked him.

He let out a slow breath of air, giving Momma one last searching look. "Never mind," he gruffed, adjusting his lancer.

It was quiet for a moment while we all tried to think of something to say. Sam was the only one not affected by the uncomfortable atmosphere; going to town on the same piece of jerky. She's shake it hard and then swipe at it with her paws, never letting go of her death-grip. I watched her for a second, until a menacing raucous bark of laughter caught my attention.

It was Jed, another camp member who enjoyed making trouble. He was dirty and grimy- not exactly a rarity around here- and was smoking a cheroot cigar. He grinned widely at us, putting on display his black and rotted teeth. "Well I'll be damned," he called out to us, catching the attention of those surrounding us. "We got a fuckin' celebrity here tonight!"

It was quiet while the members of the camp tried to figure out what he meant. "What are you on about, Jed?" I asked.

He took another swig of moonshine, wiping a drop off of his lips before continuing. "Well now, don't tell me you didn't see it! We got Sergeant Marcus Fucking Fenix with us!"

I froze, my mind whirling. Marcus _Fenix_? _The _Marcus Fenix? The deserter? The savior?

…The _traitor_?

Numbly, I saw Dom start for Jed, but Marcus grabbed his neck plate and pulled him backwards. "Yeah," Marcus said in his low, gravelly voice. "What's it to you?"

Jed grinned widely. Dangerously. "Well, now, let me be the first to welcome you to our humble abode, Sergeant Fenix. It's been an _honor._" The camp around us was silent, wondering what was going to happen next. Jed stood, holding his arms out wide, "What? Don't tell me you don't recognize this asshole! Let me paint the picture for you, then. Ten years after E-day, them grub assholes' knocking on the COG's capital, Ephyra. Only thing between the locust and hundreds of people is the Hammer of Dawn." He paused, enjoying the lime-light, and pointed an accusing finger at Marcus. "And this asshole here, dicks around, and fucks off with the targeting system!"

Marcus wasn't moving, just watching Jed with those mad-dog eyes. _Yeah,_ my mind whispered to me erratically. _That's what his eyes remind me off. The crystal-clear blue of junkyard dogs who'd just as soon rip your throat out than look at you._

Jed continued his tirade. "Not only does he _leave the battle_ with the Hammer's targeting system, he goes to save his precious daddy. Professor Adam Fenix. But he couldn't even do _that_ right, now could he?"

"No," Marcus answered him. "I couldn't."

I blinked. Professor Adam Fenix was the creator of the Hammer of Dawn, the machine that had slaughtered the majority of the human race. Everybody here knew his name.

Everybody here had lost loved ones because of that asshole.

"Ain't that right," Jed continued. "Only fitting, I think. God only knows how many people perished that day." His dark eyes went flat black. "Including my brother."

Nobody answered him, and Jed chuckled once without humor. "You know, I could only pray that they'd put two between your eyes for what you did. But did they? Hell no, not to the COG's golden child! Instead, they dump your sorry ass in prison for forty years! Serves four, and is now running around with his own squad." He cut his eyes to Dom, the only other gear within sight. "Tell me, how does it feel knowing you're serving with a traitor?"

Whatever Jed was expecting, it wasn't what happened. Dom grabbed a hold of his collar and shoved him against the nearest crumbling shack. "He is _twice_ the man you will ever be!" Dom growled in his face. Jed's eyes grew wide for a second; six-feet, two-inches of pissed off gear is still six-feet two-inches of pissed off gear.

He chuckled, despite stile being pressed to the brick wall by Dom's muscular frame. "Yeah, that's right. Ignore the truth. That's always been the COG's way!" He maneuvered an arm out from underneath Dom. "Like the truth that that piece of shit is a murderer!"

"Dom!" I barked before Marcus could. "For fucks sake, put him down!"

Dom hesitated, glaring angrily at Jed and shoving him into the wall before finally dropping him. Jed stumbled once, but quickly regained his footing. I placed myself between them; this time facing the two gears, with my back to the mass of stunned Stranded. "What the hell is you problem?" I spat at Dom.

"Aw, you can't be serious!" Dom said, incredulously. "You think I'm gonna sit here and let him spout that shit about Marcus?"Marcus, silent until then, spoke up. "Dom, it's okay. I didn't get my feelings hurt." Marcus' eyes searched my own, probably wondering if I even knew what the whole fight was about.

The world fell silent as I observed Marcus with new eyes. I tried to merge the traitor from the horror stories with the man I had met only days ago. The man who had already saved my life more than once.

"You fucked up," I informed him. "But I'm sure you know that. Seems to me that it's who you are now, and what you do now, that's important." I realized that the reason he was so disinclined to abandon me after our less than graceful meeting at New Hope was that he had probably abandoned enough people to their death's for his conscience to allow one more. "I'm with you on this mission, if you want me there."

After all, we _all _had things we regretted.

Marcus appraised me with shadowed eyes. He nodded once, and the people around us relaxed. Jed stormed off, muttering a few choice words. The crowd that had amassed during the brawl disbanded, leaving me alone with Momma and the two gears.

"Well, now," Momma said. "That was interesting. I've got things to attend to, so if you'll excuse me." She left, leaving Sam with me.

It was silent for a while, all of us trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Something between the three of us had shifted, and nobody was quite sure what.

Cole finally broke the tension, showing up with his gaggle of adoring fans. "Hey 83!" some voice rang out, "Go over that game with the sharks!"

Cole's booming voice rang out. "Man, that game was a bear! Even for the Cole Train!"

Dom, Marcus, and I all turned to see the crowd of people, Cole's head rising far above the rest. Cole caught sight of us, and finagled his way through the throng of people. "Hold up, baby!" he said to his fans. "Gotta go check in."

He made his way over to us, and searched our faces for some clue as to what happened. "Yo, boss man. Everything cool? Where's Damon?"

"Baird's fine," Marcus said coolly. "Just had a confrontation with some of the natives. Go enjoy yourself."

"Alright, baby. If you're sure." He shot me a wink, poking me in the side. "Man, I had some of that stew of yours earlier! How y'all so skinny, eating like that?"

I grinned, not saying a word. Truth was, that was the only meal many would eat today. Cole had also eaten about four times the normal serving of a Stranded man. "Well," I said to the group of gears. "If you guys are done with the drama, I'm going to go get something to eat. Stew's over in the kitchens, feel free to help yourself."

There was about half a cauldron of stew left. I filled two bowls, and grabbed half a loaf of the grainy, slightly nutty bread that was made at the camp. I searched the camp, finally finding Baird next to the river, kicking small stones into the murky depths.

"Hey," I said as a warning as I approached his blind side. These days, if you startled someone you could be looking down a barrel before you knew what was happening.

"You selling cookies or something?" he groused, tucking something mechanical back into his pockets.

I snorted, "Yeah, give me all your money and I'll burn it to keep warm." Money was meaningless nowadays. I could still remember the time when it meant something, but we were a barter economy now. A few foil-wrapped ration bars could go a long way.

He didn't tell me to leave, which was a start. I held out the bowl of stew invitingly. "Here. I brought you dinner."

He gave the bowl a derisive look. "If I ate that, I'd be shitting myself for months."

"Whatever," I said indifferently, giving a slight shrug. "Starve. I'm sure Sam will enjoy your share."

His eyes rested on my face for a long beat, before snorting and taking the bowl from my hands. I gave him a third of the bread as well, keeping a third for myself and tossing the remainder to Sam. She caught it midair, and slunk away to the bushes to enjoy her meal in peace.

I sat on the river bank, watching the stars appear one at a time. After a minute Baird joined me, sighing as the bulk of metal armor he toted around all day settled into the ground beside me. For all his complaints, he tore into his meal, hinting he was hungrier than he let on.

We ate in silence, enjoying the grainy bread and thick stew. After a while I slowed in my efforts, thinking hard about something. "…Can I ask you something?"

He grunted. "Can you? Yes. Will I answer? Remains to be seen."

Earlier, this would have pissed me off. Instead, I gave a small smirk. "Alright, then. You know what Marcus did in the battle for Ephyra. Shit, the whole world does, or at least what is left."

He nodded, jaw working as he crunched on a crust of bread. "Yeah, I do. Your point?"

"My _point_ is…does it bother you? Serving under him, knowing what he did?"

It was a long moment before he answered. "Well, if it did bother me, I wouldn't be here."

I nodded, mulling over his answer. I guess that made sense. And if everybody else trusted Marcus, I had no reason not to.

Something else occurred to me. "And what about me? Does it bother you working with me?"

He stood, stooping next to the river to rinse out his empty bowl. He poured the dirty water back into the river slowly, and its soft tinkling was the only sound for a long moment. "As I said; if it did, I wouldn't be here." He walked away, into the darkness, leaving me to chew over his answer.

Small camp fires crackled and hissed in the moonlight, throwing shadows on the shantytown. In the distance someone strummed an out-of-tune guitar, his soft voice rising with the smoke. It fit the peaceful gurgling of the river, I thought, and I found myself quietly humming along on the chorus. Some time later Sam returned to me, laying down and pressing her warm body against my legs. I gently combed my fingers through her thick hair, enjoying the softness of it against my hands. For once, the world was at peace.

It was a long time before I got up, rinsing out my bowl in the river and following Baird back to camp. The small smile stayed cemented on my face as I fell asleep that night, quickly and easily, pulled into the land of dreams and things best forgotten.

**Author's Note- Well, here we are! Yet another chapter! **

**Huge thanks to rockforthecross74 for betaing this! If you're into Mass Effect of KotOR, go check out her two new stories, Who I Am Or Who I've Been and Duality Effect!**

**What did you think? Good? Bad? Ugly? Why was Marcus trying to have a conversation with Bri and Dom? Any ideas? **

**Tell me what you think! Reviewers get a preview of the next chapter, and a bowl full of venison stew! (Just pay shipping and handling!)**


	10. Bittersweet Goodbye

South Side of Jacinto

Seven Years After E-day

_We can't stop them. We don't know where they came from. We don't know what they want. They don't even seem to want territory. All they do is kill. We can't even begin to negotiate with them, or work out their objectives, because we just don't know the first damn thing about them. Thant's not an enemy, Mr. Chairman. That's a monster._

_-General Bardry Salaman, Chief of the COG defense staff._

**Bri crouched behind the empty house, starving and alone. Hungry. So hungry. **

**It was her fifth day on the run, in as many days without food. She was cold, dirty, and sick from drinking tainted water.**

**She couldn't get access to COG rations because she had stupidly left her identification cards at Bane's apartment. That also meant she had to beware of checkpoints and gears, as she could be misconstrued as a Stranded. Truth was she was barely better than the Stranded; scraping out a living from the underside of the city.**

**Her first few days on the run had been hard. She put as much distance as possible between her and Bane; running as long as she could, walking when she couldn't. She'd exhausted herself, with no way to replenish that energy. With all her running over the past few days, her body had used up its' minuscule amount of fat storage. Soon, her body would begin to cannibalize itself, sacrificing muscles and organs as an energy source. If that continued, eventually her organs would begin to shut down, such as her heart, lungs, and liver. That was how people starved to death in today's Jacinto.**

**Bri wasn't aware of the danger her body was in; she just knew she was hungry. She had been crouched outside the house for about twenty minutes now. She had seen the owners leave, and now she was just waiting to make sure they wouldn't return and interrupt her. **

**She had waited long enough. Fear kept her feet rooted to the mossy ground, but her stomach was ready to claw its way up through her throat and ransack the house by itself. **

**It was time. She slowly got to her feet, staying crouched as her eyes frantically searched for anything that would reveal her. She walked quickly to the back of the house; already deciding that running would be too suspicious. The back door was locked, and the windows boarded up. She tugged at a loose board with her fingertips, ignoring the splinters that dug their way into her flesh. The board broke away with a resounding **_**crack.**_

**Not hesitating, she thrust her elbow into the pane of glass that had been protected by the semi-rotten wood. It took a second, but she finally managed to burst open the glass. She placed her hand through the broken pane, careful of the sharp shards of broken glass, and clicked the door unlocked. Quickly withdrawing her hand, she twisted the doorknob and opened the back door. **

**The door shut quietly behind her. She was in the kitchen, and she wasted no time searching the cabinets for food. She had found a loaf of bread in the first cabinet. She wanted to stuff the whole thing in her mouth at once, but she didn't have time. Flipping open her pack and dropping the bread in, she went back for more.**

**A key tumbled in the lock, and she froze, her hand in the cabinet. The door swung open, revealing a man and a woman. The group stared at each other, Bri breaking the silence first by turning around and sprinting out the back door.**

"**Hey!" the man exploded behind her, "Get back here! Guards! Somebody call the guards!" **

**She sprinted down the street, ignoring the curious looks of innocent bystanders. The man was still chasing after her, calling for the guards. **

"**Hey!" a new voice called after her. "Stop!" the sound of two pairs of metal boots chasing after her joined the noise of the street. **

**She turned down an alleyway, the canvas satchel beating against her thin legs. Her breath came in labored gasps as she exerted herself, running from the gears. The alleyway was dark and damp, the tall building on either side blocking out the filtered rays of the waning sunlight. She stumbled once over the broken pavement, and fell into an empty doorway, dragging her small body out of sight of the gears as she heard them go running past. **

**She lay in a crumpled heap, trying to regain her breath. She thought she was out of danger, until she heard the scraping of metal boots further down the alley.**

"**Hello?" a male voice called out to her, and she stiffened. "My name is Private Ace Martinez."**

**She almost snorted in derision, not believing that any one would waste their time helping her. She silently dragged her knees up to her chest, curling into the smallest ball possible, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't see her. **

**The footfalls grew closer, heavy thuds echoing at a measured pace. She strained to hear each step around the thumping of her heart. "Come on," the same voice - Ace - said. "Just come out here. My partner said you had kept running straight, it'd be pretty darn embarrassing if you proved me wrong."**

**She didn't answer, trying to calm her breathing so he wouldn't hear it. She shifted her weight on the wet pavement, rolling to her knees. She heard him kick at a trashcan, and she could imagine him looking behind it for her. She tried to gauge how far away he was, and if he would give up before he reached her hiding place. **

"**Look," his voice cajoled her. "I'm sure this whole thing is a misunderstanding. Come out, and we'll get this all figured out and squared away." She slowly got to her feet as his voice grew louder.**

**The footsteps came to a halt, seemingly standing mere feet away. She could hear him breathing, taking slow, sedate breaths. "All right," he said. "How about this-"**

**What he was about to propose, she never got to find out. She bolted out of the doorway like a spooked horse, churning her long, lithe legs under her. Her too-large shoes slapped against the pavement, and her breath came in an explosion of frantic pants. **

**She could feel Ace tear off after her, and she screwed her eyes shut as she sprinted away, knowing she'd never be able to outrun an able-bodied gear. She had almost reached the mouth of the alley when he caught up to her. He grabbed her around the waist, dragging her to a stop. He was careful with her, not wanting to harm her. **

"**No!" she cried out, fighting desperately against him. Stealing resources during war time was a capital crime - punishable by death. She kicked and scratched at him, flailing her limbs frantically in hopes of getting him to drop his hold. **

"**Hey, hey," he spoke to her in an even voice as he struggled to keep a hold of her. **"**Calm down! I'm not going to hurt you. Calm **_**down**_**!" **

**Her energy failed quickly, as every twist and turn of her limbs required more and more energy. She was panting for breath, and her body betrayed her; the fight draining out of her much too quickly. Exhausted, she stopped trying to get away, going limp in his arms. There was a lull in activity as they both froze in place, wondering what the other would do.**

**Ace turned her around to face him, keeping a firm hand on her. She was skinny, and scared. He could see it in her wide brown eyes. His hands nearly encircled her waist, and her ribs and spine stood out of her skin like limbs of their own. He took a knee in front of her, and still was nearly as tall as her. She rested one hand protectively over her canvas satchel, trying to hide the dirty sack behind her small frame. "Look," she said, her voice tired and strained. "I'll give it back. I swear." She watched him, wondering what he was going to do. His hazel eyes watched her carefully, but not menacingly. His light brown hair was cropped short, but long enough to wave in the bit of wind that made its' way up the alley. His COG issued lancer rested on the wet pavement next to them, and the barrel of a longshot hung on his back, suspended there by a stiff strap. **

**He ran his eyes down her body, assessing her. Her clothes were torn, dirty, and ill fitting. Her stomach pulsed with each breath, and he could see the thumping of her heart in the pulse point in the crook of her neck. Her skin was wind-whipped and dark, covered with a thin film of dirt and grime. Her hand, outfitted with chipped and filthy fingernails, reached into her pack and pulled out a single loaf of bread. "Here, just take it and leave me alone!" **

**He eyed it once, then felt how his fingers almost encircled her entire waist. "Why don't you hold onto that," he suggested. "I'll make sure they're repaid." **

**Her long fingers tightened on the bread, making tiny indents. She looked as if he was lying to her, and would snatch it away from her as soon as she tried to take a bite. "I…" she started to say, then paused. Her mouth hardened, making a decision. "No," she spat. "I don't need your **_**charity**_**." **

_**That**_** wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Most people hoarded anything they came by; clothes, supplies, and most certainly food. There just wasn't enough around to be selfless. He deliberated half a second, then stood, letting go of her. She was free to run if she wished. Somehow, he didn't think she would. "It's not charity," he told her. "You're going to work for it. Think of it as…advanced payment."**

**Her leg backed up an inch, but she didn't bolt. She was doing a good job masking the fear in her expression, but Ace could still see it and it sickened him. She looked as if he had thrown her with the offer. Her eyes were curious, but cautious. Unlike so many beaten-down civilians, her eyes weren't sunk in and deadened, but bright and alive. They dominated her small face, and he found himself enraptured by them. There was something **_**alive**_** inside them, a fighting spirit that refused to dim, despite her rough life. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound fierce and dangerous, though her voice shook just a bit too much. **

**He shrugged. "I mean what I said. I don't waste my time with empty words. You can keep the bread, but you'll have to work for it."**

**This time she took a full step back, away from him, and he immediately regretted his words. Corruption was a common thing nowadays, and she probably thought he was hitting on her. He wasn't, not even a little. It sickened him the way some men talked about women, as if they were disposable sex toys. He gave her what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile. "What I mean is, I'm sure there are some toilets or something that need scrubbed back on base. You say you don't want charity? Here's a chance for you to earn an honest living, and stay fed doing it."**

**She thought that over, then must have found it acceptable because she relaxed slightly. Eyeing him cautiously, she slowly tore off a chunk of the bread and brought it to her mouth, never taking her eyes off him. She stuffed the bread into her dry mouth, trying not to look ravenous. She chewed quickly and hungrily, swallowing thickly. The bread made an odd sound when it hit her empty stomach. **

**He smiled as she ate, feeling relieved for some reason. He lifted his hand to his ear, informing his partner that he had found the culprit. Jace, his young partner, asked if he needed help taking her in. Ace had blithely told him that if a small girl could outrun him, he deserved to have his butt kicked. It was all in good fun; they had been friends ever since he could remember. They had gone through what passed for training nowadays together, and were more often then not tasked together for missions. Ace technically didn't belong to any squad, but that didn't mean there weren't the few gears he enjoyed more than others. **

"**Come on," Ace said to her. "We got some more chow back at HQ. I'm sure we can dig up some more clothes and whatnot for you too."**

**She nodded once, expression serious. "And I'll work it all off. Promise." Then, under her breath, so quiet he had to strain to hear, "Never thought I'd be promising anything to a fascist COG."**

**His lips twisted, bemused, but before he could answer there was a disturbance at the mouth of the alley. "Aww, shit, man," Jace's voice called. "She can't be more than ten! What, convicted felons before puberty?"**

**Her eyes narrowed. "I'm older than **_**ten**_**, asshole." **_**Not sure by how much, but…**_** she thought to herself. **

**Jace shrugged, meeting them halfway. "Yeah, okay. Like what, eleven, twelve?"**

**She stared blankly, and he realized she didn't know. "Let's just go with twelve, alright?" It wasn't like the two gears were that much older. Jace was only fifteen, the youngest the COG would take him. Ace was sixteen, having just celebrated a birthday. Although, 'celebrated' was an obtuse term; more like he'd casually happened to glance at a calendar and realize it was his birth date. **

"**Alright," Ace interrupted. "Still don't know your name."**

"**Call me Bri," she answered, and waited expectantly for their own names. **

"**Well, I already told you my name's Ace, and the **_**real**_** ugly bastard there is Jace Stratton."**

**Jace narrowed his eyes at him threateningly. "You know, one of these days you're going to catch a friendly round in the ass, and you won't have to look far to see who did it."**

"**Yeah, well, if I look like I give a damn, please tell me. I don't want to give off the wrong impression," Ace answered him, rolling his eyes at Bri like they were sharing a joke. She choked down a laugh, still stuffing the rest of the bread in her mouth as the headed off for the military base.**

**Yeah. She'd do alright here. **

I woke early the next morning to the sound of arguing. I blinked, my thoughts still slightly muddled by sleep. I grabbed my sniper and headed out the door, only to return a heartbeat later to grab my lancer. I still wasn't used to carrying it. Sam trotted alongside me, ears perked and fur bristling just the slightest.

"That's bullshit!" Baird's voice exploded. I almost stopped walking, deciding it was too early to deal with the jerk. A cold front had moved in during the night, dropping the temperature by at least twenty degrees. I shivered and clenched my jacket tighter around my neck, waiting to see what would happen, and what 'bullshit' Baird was referring to.

"That's what you think!" another voice answered him. "Oh, no, it's no deal if you kill us all!"

I groaned, picking up the pace. I found Baird in the camp's center. Baird and another camp member were locked in a heated argument, drawing more and more observers every second. "Hey!" I bellowed. "What the hells going on here?"

The other camp member pointed angrily at Baird. "This asshole's tryin' to get us all killed!"

Baird pointed right back at him. "And this dumbass is going to kill all of you!"

I sighed thinly, feeling the urge to just slap 'em both with a time out. "Ok," I said. "Start at the beginning. Who did what first?"

Baird opened his mouth, but the man talked over him. "I was over here, minding my own business, working on the generators in time for this Frost-"

"Meaning he was slaughtering those machines. He's trying to fix the stator using aluminum wires, but you need the copper wires to complete the diode assembly change that changes electricity to AC to DC current that your curling iron can use." Baird snarled, looking really pissed off that someone would consider doing this to the generators.

My eyes glazed over as the camp member - Kevin - replied with something as equally boring and technical-sounding. I looked down at Sam and her golden brown eyes were watching me, as if to say, _Do we really have to listen to this?_

"Alright…" I hedged, not having a clue what they were arguing about. "Baird, can you understand why some might not be so eager to have you plod around in their equipment?"

His vivid blue eyes narrowed, and he huffed angrily. "But-" he started.

"No buts!" I interrupted. "And Kevin, can _you_ understand that he might have been trying to help?"

He kicked at the ground with his boot, and mumbled something too quiet for me to hear. They looked like three-year-olds, chastised and still stewing angrily about the other stealing their toys. I thought about trying to make them hug, but figured it would probably get me shot. "See?" I said. "Was that so hard? Now where's the rest of Delta?"

Baird flicked his eyes up to my face. "Cole's with some old granny. Dom and Marcus are up by the gates."

_Granny? _I thought. _Oh, great. He's with Momma._ I murmured a goodbye, then took off for Momma's shack. The small crowd that had amassed during the spat dispersed, and Baird and Kevin got back to working on the generators together. Occasionally there was an insult here, a filthy word there, but for the most part they seemed to ignore each other's affiliates.

Cole was sitting outside Momma's shack with a bowl full of food and a crowd of people gathered around him. "It was the fourth quarter," I heard him say to the eager people. "We were down by a touchdown. Time was running out. The ball snapped off of the twenty yard line, and I turn to see it being thrown straight at me, beautiful throw. I catch it - Cole Train's never fumbled a ball - and sprint down the side of the field. I got linemen coming out of the woodwork, trying to derail the Train, baby! But you see, the Train's got a _schedule_ to keep!"

He paused for breath, flashing a brilliant smile at the expectant crowd. This would be the highlight of their day; listening to an ex-superstar recite his golden years of a sport long dead. Cole didn't seem to mind, however. He looked like he enjoyed the attention, and he continued his saga. "I'm almost to the forty yard line, when this big mo-fo comes outta nowhere. He bigger than the Train, but not smarter!"

A snort interrupted him. "Bigger than you, 83? I don't believe it!"

Anyone else might have been bothered by the jarring disruption of their story. Cole took it in stride, laughing along with the crowd. "I mean it, Baby! This mother was a slab of beef with a side of growth hormones! But you see, you got to be _fast_ with the Cole Train around."

"He tried to tackle me, bring down the Train and our hopes for winning the game. I got's some fancy footwork going, stepping around him. I keep running- fifty yard line, then our forty, thirty, twenty - when the same big-ass lineman is sneaking up behind me. I can hear him breathing, and his footsteps pounding the grass field. Endzone ain't ten yards away, and I'm trying to get my feet to move just a bit faster. I _feel_ the exact moment when he leaps, trying to tackle me."

"But he don't know what I know. I jump at the exact second he leaped, and all of a sudden we're looking like a upside down 'T'! My boots land on this mo-fo's shoulder pads, and I ride him like a surfboard all the way into the end zone!" Cole finished with a flourish, holding his huge arms above his head in triumph.

"And the crowd goes wild!" I chanted, clapping and laughing along with the rest of the people. Cole hadn't noticed I was there, and he grinned widely when he saw me standing there.

"Hey, lil sis!" he called, getting to his feet. "Enjoy the show?"

"You know it!" I answered him lightheartedly. "But, one of these days you gotta tell me what 'Thrashball' is."

He winked at me, turning away to accept handshakes and 'congratulations' from the pleased audience members. I watched them bemusedly until I felt a presence at my back. I turned sharply, fingers dancing over my pistol, until I realized it was Momma.

She gave me a kind smile, pretending not to notice my instinctual reaction to someone sneaking up on my blind side. "Ah, Cole," she said in a fond voice. "He's a good one. Lot of bad out there, especially nowadays."

I just nodded once, not completely sure where she was planning on taking this. "My point is," she continued. "Make sure you know who it is you run around with. There's a couple people who'd light you up for no greater pleasure than to watch you burn."

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

She brushed the hair away from my shoulders, giving me a level look. "There's a lot of bad out there," she repeated. "Just tryin' to make sure you don't have to take more than your fair share."

"What's fair anymore?" I asked her. "Getting shot? Rape? Murder?" I shook my head. "I know what's out there. I've seen it, and so far I've been good at staying away from it. But this," I motioned to Cole, who was still chattering animatedly with a few camp members. "This is something good. Something meaningful." _Something worthwhile,_ I thought to myself, but didn't voice it. I didn't want to have to explain that one.

"Alright," she acquiesced. "Just as you know what you're getting into here."

"Whoo!" Cole interrupted, coming up to us. "That was better than a pre-game inspiration speech! And I used to be good at those!"

I smiled, all the tension leaving the atmosphere immediately. Cole was good at that; alleviating nerves and fears, and getting people to calm down quickly. I guess that's why him and Baird were friends. Baird needed someone to act as an ambassador for the world. Otherwise, he'd probably end up getting punched in the face a heck of a lot more often.

"Hey," I said. "You probably already know each other, but Cole, this is Momma. Momma, this is Cole." This was - hopefully - my last round of introductions.

"It's a pleasure to meet the 'Cole Train'," Momma said politely, holding her hand out for him to shake.

Cole ignored her hand, instead sweeping her up in a bone-crushing hug. She yelped out of surprise, before relaxing into the hug and patting him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Momma!" Cole repeated happily, setting her back on her feet. "Damn, lil sis, I thought you said you didn't have no family?"

"I-I don't," I stuttered, still stunned by Cole's actions. "She's not my mom."

"What?" Momma asked. "Of course I'm not! It's a nickname, sweetheart. I take care of people, and as a result, they started calling me 'Momma'. My own child died years ago." Her voice was strong, but I could detect the soft root of hidden pain. "My real name is Sheraya Byrne."

"Anyway," I said. "Where's Marcus and Dom? We should probably be getting ready to ship out."

"Ah, they're up at the gates, talking to the one dude we met coming in. Didn't look too happy, last I saw."

I nodded, walking off in that direction. "Alright, thanks. I'll see if I can head Dix off. Go back and check on Baird, alright? He ain't too happy either…"

Cole waved me off, and I started jogging towards the front gate. I could see my breath in little clouds in front of me, it was that cold. Dix seemed to be arguing with Marcus about something, but it hadn't come to blows, at least not yet. _What _is _it about cold weather that's got everybody's panties in a bunch?_

"No!" Dix said, apparently protesting something Marcus had proposed. "You go that way, you're gonna get killed. Follow the river, that's the safe bet."

"This way's faster," Marcus countered, tracing a path on an outdated and time-eaten map. Dix's narrowed eyes followed his finger, and he shook his head again.

"You go that way, you'll run into countless problems- and grubs. We've got men stationed up the river to protect it from grubs. They know you're coming now. It takes longer, but you won't be dodging bullets the whole way up. You wanna find this 'Nexus', that's the way to do it."

"He's right, Marcus," I said, entering the conversation. The three men turned, surprised to see me there. "It's safer. That's the way we need to go."

"Alright," Marcus gruffed, rolling up the map. Somehow, he made it seem like it wasn't an act of defeat. "It's decided, then."

Dix turned away from Marcus, keeping a noticeable distance between them. "Yeah, yeah," he quipped. "The sooner I have you assholes outta my hair, the better."

"Alright then," Marcus said. "We're gone. Where's Cole and Baird?"

"They're over by the river, last I saw." I expected Marcus and Dom to leave and go after them, but Marcus just lifted a finger to his ear and called for them over his comm-unit. _Cool,_ I thought.

There was an awkward pause while we waited for Cole and Baird to show. Dix kept shooting furtive looks my way, which I was trying to ignore the best I could. He was probably still pissed that I had taken liberties and brought the COG to his doorstep. I distracted myself by unwrapping a ration bar and feeding it to Sam.

Dom grunted, and my eyes flicked up to his face. He was watching Sam devour the bar, looking slightly ticked off. It took me a second, but I realized what his problem was. It was a COG issued ration bar that Sam was so obviously enjoying. I felt a pang of guilt, but quickly stuffed it away. _So what?_ I thought, _The COG's got these things coming out the wazoo. If they've got a problem with it, screw 'em. _

"Hey, Boss Man!" Cole's familiar booming voice called. "We moving?"

Marcus grunted his assent. Baird still looked surly, glaring at anyone within eyeshot. His narrowed eyes rested on my face, and I crossed my eyes at him. "The fuck?" he said, and I stuck my tongue out. It probably wasn't the most mature thing to do, but it made me feel better. "You know," he said. "I bet if I hit you real hard on the back of the head, we can make your face stick like that. Wanna try?"

"You know," I shot back. "If you hit me real hard on the back of the head, I can make your testicles fall off. Wanna try?"

Dom's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Man," he said. "We gotta keep you around! You're the only one that can say stuff like that to him, and _not _get punched."

"Keep it up, and that might change," Baird groused.

Marcus and Dix were the only one not enjoying the jabs at Baird's expense. "I see we've employed the stand-up-comedian," Marcus said quietly. This immediately sobered us, although I wasn't exactly sure why. "Let's go," he said. "We got a lot of miles to cover before nightfall."

I adjusted the strap on my sniper, preparing to go retrieve the Centaur and move out. There was a sigh to my left, and Dix called, "Hey, Bri?"

I gave Delta one last look before turning and heading Dix's request. "What's up?" I asked, stopping a few feet from him.

He sighed heavily, crossing his strong arms across his chest, and leaned against the brick wall at his back. "Listen," he said. "I know you've got some vendetta, some freedom-fighter complex that you need to keep. I get it, I really do. I understand you're need to kill every God damn grub in sight. I felt the same way after I watched my brothers die. But, Bri," he pleaded, his dark eyes searching my own. "You don't have to do this. You really don't."

This threw me. "You think…a vendetta?" I sputtered.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face tiredly. "Whatever you wanna call it. You go out on these missions, and each time I watch you leave, not knowing if it'll be the one you don't walk away from. You've been lucky up till now, but this one is different. You've never hung around with the gears you trailed, and you never actively searched out grubs. I just…I don't wanna see you get hurt."

"You don't have to protect me!" I snapped, a swell of anger building in my chest. I didn't _need _anyone's protection! Didn't anyone understand that? The last person who tried to protect me _died_ because of it. I would _never _let that happen again!

He sensed the change in my voice, and stood taller. "Is that what you think?" he sparked, eyes narrowing and jaw hardening. "Everyone in this camp is under my protection. I alone am responsible to protect these people." He made a wide sweeping motion with his arms, indicating the camp. "All the women and girls running from the birthing farms. All the men and boys who refuse to fight for a government who sees civilians as dispensable. And _you_, Bri," he snapped, leaning forward. "I'm responsible for _you_. I promised Dizzy I'd keep you safe. When you came here, you were alone and had no idea how to survive on the outside. You needed someone to protect you then. And you need someone to protect you from yourself, _now_."

I opened my mouth to retort back, when a footstep interrupted me. It was Baird. "Come on," he snapped at me. "I realize you're a woman, but I'd appreciate it if you would be on time. Promise you, the makeup's not going to help."

I could have snapped back at him, probably a 'guess you'd know that from experience', but I didn't. I flashed Dix a look, then snapped my fingers for Sam to follow. "Fine,' I said to Baird. "Let's just go."

"You don't have to do this!" Dix called after me. I almost kept walking, but Baird decided to get involved.

"Do what?" he asked. "Do more than sit the war out with their thumb up their ass? Do more than steal COG resources in wartime? Do more than sit back and watch the grubs destroy Sera?"

Dix snarled at him. "Screw off, man," he growled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know a shitload more than you do," Baird replied. "At least she's doing something!"

"Yeah, like blocking bullets! Don't try to spin this shit into gold! The only reason you assholes want her around is so the grubs have someone else to shoot at."

"Hey!" I snapped. "That's not true!" I said it with such venom and certainty that left no doubt as to what I thought of Dix's idea. But, there was still the nagging voice of doubt in the back of my mind. Why _was _I going on this mission?

"It _is _true, Bri!" Dix said. "Quit kidding yourself. You're Stranded, and that's all you'll ever be to this COG scum!"

I think the last person to expect Baird's fist to go flying into Dix's jaw was Baird himself. They were suddenly on the ground, punching and kicking for all they were worth. "Hey!" I yelled, trying to get their attention. Dix wasn't small, but he wasn't a gear either. Baird had a couple inches and a lot of muscle on him. The rest of Delta, who, up till now, had been standing too far away to hear the conversation, reacted.

Cole dragged Baird away from Dix. "Hold up there, Baby," he said, having a hell of a time keeping his arms in a vice grip around Baird's chest.

Dix sprang off the ground, wiping a thin trickle of blood away from his mouth. "What the hell?" he spat, but didn't go after him.

"Baird!" Marcus barked. "Stand down!" His 'sergeant voice' calmed Baird down more than anything else would. Baird shrugged Cole off and readjusted his chest plates.

"COG asshole!" Dix snapped. "Get the hell out of my camp!"

Marcus shot him a cool look. "Guess we've worn out our welcome. Cole, go with Baird and get the Centaur. We'll meet you at the rear gates."

Dom rested a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Truth was, my head was still spinning. I kept trying to figure out what had set Baird off, but I just couldn't. Maybe it had been the whole morning; tensions had been running hot all day, and it took something stupid like this for him to lose it. "I'm fine," I reassured Dom, then went to check on Dix.

He pressed a hand to his jaw, winced, then spat a mouthful of blood. "I'm fine," he cut me off before I could ask.

There was an awkward pause where neither of us knew what to say. He sighed. "Bri…" he started.

"You coming?" Dom called. I turned and saw that he and Marcus were already making their way down to the rear gates.

I waved once to let him know I heard. "Yeah, I'm coming," I hollered. I gave Dix one last searching look. "Hey, I'll be fine. I know you don't think so, but these guys…they're good guys. I'm coming back. I promise." Great. Another promise in two days, neither of them I knew if I'd be able to keep.

He nodded once, dismissing me. I jogged to catch up to Marcus and Dom, only looking back once. Dix was watching me with an unreadable expression, his eyes darker than usual. _I might not see him, or anyone here, ever again. _The thought was immediately sobering, and I felt the urge to turn around and say goodbye one more time. But Dix had already turned away; a quiet force that would take on Hell and win. There was an immeasurable gulf between us, one that only widened with each step I took towards Nexus.

**Author's note- Oh, Baird. Biting off a bit much, aren't we?**

**Thanks for reading! Now, just wanted to do a bit of a 'disclaimer' kind of thing...**

**I know many of you are getting impatient, and want me to hurry with the 'Big Reveal'. All I have to say, it is coming! Soon! Like, in another three chapters! :D I've got it timed out, so please, please, please bare with me! We're almost there, I promise. There's a reason I'm taking so much time setting this up, dragging you through Jacinto and the Stranded camp. You'll thank me later. (At least, I hope you do!) The plot is beginning to culminate, and I think my beta reader put it best when she said, "The plot's really building up, and I can tell. Jeez, now there's going to be in-team drama, personal doubts with Bri, Marcus' suspicion concerning Bri and Dom, Baird's reflections on whether or not that punch meant something, BRI'S reflections on whether or not that punch meant something, Cole trying to ease everything up with humor, all while they're fighting an endless crapload of Locust. It's like a really really really epic and addicting soap opera with lots of guns, explosions, and miscellaneous apocalypse stuff!"**

**Oh, and, thanks to rockforthecross74 for betaing this! Hope you don't mind me quoting you! (And really, thanks for the rush order on this! I really appreciate it! :D)**

**(On a sidenote, thanks to my friend Jourdan for coming up with 'Kevin's' name. Told you I'd give credit! Now, I can tell if you really read this chapter or not! Muhaha! :D)**

**And so, one more thing. For those of you who don't know, today is my birthday! (Yay!) Now, please give me a present by reviewing? Every one who reviews gets a preview of the next chapter!**


	11. Belly of the Beast

Mount Kadar

Present Day

_Whatever mistakes had been made in the past, whatever sins he had committed, whatever the Locust were or wanted, the choice was stark now; save Ephyra at a terrible price, or lose the whole world._

_It was actually a very easy decision in the end._

_-Chairman Prescott's inner thoughts the night before issuing the advance warning of the detonation of the Hammer of Dawn._

The temperature dropped exponentially as we headed north up the mountain. I could feel it fall even through the Centaur's thick walls. Every couple thousand yards or so was another guard station. Each time I left the safety of the Centaur to convene with them, and let them know what we were doing and why there was a tank heading up the mountain.

Marcus slowed the tank. "Looks like another station," he said, then shot a look at me over the seat. I sighed, grabbing hold of the top hatch.

"I'm on it," I grumbled, hauling myself out of the tank. I climbed down the side of the Centaur, taking a second to let Sam out the back. She jumped gracefully out of the stifling rear cabin, shaking herself briskly. Her ears picked up, already used to this routine.

I headed up the road, although the term 'road' was a bit optimistic. It was little more than a footpath, kept clear by the guards who walked up to the stations day in and day out. The river gurgled a few yards to my left, bringing melted snow down the mountain and to the camp. The forest was curiously quiet, notably missing the now-familiar bird calls and sounds of life unseen. Still, I couldn't blame all the animals for leaving. It was downright _freezing_ out here, evidenced by the few drifts of snow that scuttled and danced their way across my path.

"Hold up!" a man called out to me. I halted in my tracks, holding a hand up above my head. "Who are you?"

"It's Bri!" I called back. "Dix should have let you know we were on our way?"

He waved me forward, and I jogged the few meters to their station. The guard who called out to me wasn't someone I knew personally, but I had seen him around the camp. "You got the gears?" he asked, watching me with piercing eyes.

Fighting the urge to squirm under his intense gaze, I leveled my chin and squared my shoulders. "Yeah. We're just passing up to the mountain."

He shrugged, dropping his gaze and reaching for his canteen. "Be careful up there, yeah?" he said. "This is our last guard checkpoint. Up on Mount Kadar…_things_ happen. Bad things. Understand, yeah?"

"I got it," I told him, holding my lancer with one hand so I could stuff the other deep in my pockets. _Note to self; get some freaking gloves_, I thought erratically.

He gave me a slow nod, watching me with those piercing eyes. He waved for the Centaur to come through, and Marcus stepped on the accelerator. He kept a slow, steady pace, trying not to make anyone anxious. "Thanks for the warning," I said to the guard. Marcus pulled up beside me. I let Sam in the back, before climbing back on top of the tank and dropping through the open hatch. I waved once to the guards before ducking into the dark confines of the rear seat.

Marcus continued up the bumpy trail, the tank giving a quick jerk every now and then. I settled back into my place beside Baird, who was wearing his I'm-going-to-figure-this-out-if-it-kills-me look, and fiddling with something mechanical. "What's that?" I asked him.

He gave it a few more angry tugs before giving an exasperated sight and tucking it back into his pack. "It's for Jack," he said simply.

My eyebrows knitted together. "Who's Jack?" Was Baird actually doing something nice for someone? Instead of answering, Baird leaned around me, and knocked on a hidden compartment that I hadn't seen before. It was cleverly hidden, built into the walls of the Centaur. "Come on out, Jack," he called.

"What are you-" I started to say, figuring he was pulling my leg. I stopped talking when the compartment door flew open, revealing a little mechanical box. _Not a box…_I realized as the four little lights on its head started to glow The contraption unraveled itself, unfolding into a head, two mechanical arms with metal claws for hands, and a blank screen. Sam gave an alarmed bark as the thing floated out of the compartment and hovered over the back seat. She scrambled to the back of the tank, pressing against the rear hatch with her fur bristling slightly.

"Shit…" I breathed, awestruck as the thing beeped in a cheerful tone, probably happy to be out of the stuffy compartment. "What is it?" I asked Baird.

He scoffed indignantly, motioning for the mechanical bot to come closer, before placing the scrambled bit of metal and wires into its' back. "What does it look like?" he said sardonically. "He's a bot. Name's Jack."

'Jack' beeped again, this time turning his glowing lights to me. "H-hello…Jack?" I said a bit hesitantly, while Sam growled low in her throat. Jack beeped once more, this time in a more despondent tone, before folding himself back into his compartment, and letting the door slide shut behind him.

"He's...interesting," I hedged, not sure what kind of reaction he was looking for.

Baird scoffed, "He better be. He's the last one humanity's going to be able to make. After these grub bastards get through destroying the world, we won't have the shit needed to make a jack-in-the-box, let alone a working bot."

I nodded silently, turning away from him to stare out the window. It was a shame, everything humanity had lost. Our only source of new manufacturing was from the factories in Jacinto, which struggled to produce needed parts to keep what we had running. New materials, like guns or vehicles, were never heard of. In many ways, gears were as bad as Stranded, scavenging parts from broken equipment to keep everything they had in working order. If we somehow lost the factories in Jacinto, humanity would be in a rough couple of years, as all equipment would be lost, with no way to replenish them.

Mount Kadar was an old mining camp, and the worn and empty shells of old mining equipment stood like fallen combatants of a war long lost. They had been scavenged and re-scavenged for parts, and now were silent memorials to a forgotten time when machines battled the land, excavating the wants and needs of mankind from the bountiful feast nature provided.

Marcus slightly slowed before entering the abandoned mining tunnels; the only semblance of hesitation he would show for the feat we were going to undertake. He didn't stop, however, just clicked on the headlights. The dim rays of artificial light echoed back to us, reflecting off the stone walls of the dark and damp tunnels. The silence seemed amplified by our straining to hear the presence of another sentient being occupying the tunnel. No body said a word, barely daring to breathe in the still quiet. The rumble of the Centaur seemed out of place as it brought us farther and farther into the belly of the beast.

Despite the stillness of the tunnels, the headlights illuminated evidence of recent settlement here. The carcass of a fresh kill. The remnants of a camp fire; the black charred bones of life-giving heat left scattered on the ground. Scrapes in the soil; indicating a recent fight and evacuation. I read all the signs left behind, trying to figure out why the Locusts had settled here in the first place, and what made them leave. The ground was littered with spent shell cases, and I shivered as we passed a puddle of black, dried blood.

"What..._happened _here?" Dom asked, voice hushed. For a moment, no one answered him, as no one had an explanation. Even Baird was quiet, which was surprising. Not only did grub corpses litter the ground, so did a few human corpses. There were black marks along the wall, as if a series of explosions had gone off recently, but there wasn't the range of damage you'd expect from a grenade going off. Instead, the black marks of the explosions had bits of charred flesh in the middle, as if something made of flesh had detonated...

"As long as its not here now, I don't care what happened," Marcus said quietly, but I could hear the slight distraction in his voice, as if he was frantically trying to unravel the mystery placed before him. "Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary."

We traveled on in silence, leaving behind the ghost-like battlefield. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up, and I couldn't sit still. Now, more than ever, I wanted my boots on solid ground; to have the choice to run if need be. I shifted in my seat, and Baird gave me an annoyed look. I narrowed my eyes, and was about to issue a foul-mouthed retort, when Marcus slowed the Centaur.

"Look sharp," was all he said. That was all that _needed _to be said. Everyone snapped to attention, staring out the window with their hands clenched tight around their weapons. There, off in the distance, was the faint glowing of lights, bouncing and flickering off the stone walls. Every once in a while, a shadow would interrupt the lights. As we grew closer, there was a scurry of activity, and someone or some_thing_ hurriedly kicked out one of the fires.

I was tense, waiting for the dull _ting_ of bullets to hit the side of the Centaur. When none did, I forced myself to take a closer look. The shadows that danced along the sides of the tunnels looked _oddly_ familiar… "Shit," I said, startling the four gears out of their battle mode. "They…They're _human_…"

At that, Marcus slammed on the brakes. "What are they doing down here?"

"Maybe they didn't get the memo," Cole said, trying to be cheerful, even though we all saw past it. "You know the one, that says 'Grubs are underground, might not wanna be there?"

Ignoring the rest of them, I popped the top hatch and yanked myself out of the tank, mildly relieved to be free of its' stifling confines. I paused on the top of the tank, ready to drop back inside at the first _crack _of a gunshot. When nothing happened, I dropped the stone floor of the tunnel. "Holy hell," I heard Baird say as the rest of them got out of the tank. "Did _she_ not get the memo that things found underground might be dangerous?"

I rolled my eyes, and adjusted my lancer, holding it pointed muzzle-down. I didn't care what anyone thought; _grubs _were the enemy, not humans. So Baird could piss and moan all he wanted about Stranded being worthless. They were still people, and that's what the world was going to need once we finally eradicated the locust, if we wanted to replace the billions of lives that had been lost. Humanity was on the verge of extinction, and we didn't need to be caught in a war with our own kind when we had monsters knocking on our doors.

"Hello?" I called out, interrupting the flurry of activity I could hear, although it was obvious they were trying to be as quiet as possible. I jumped over a small puddle as I moved forward; there was a motley amount of small streams running beneath our boots, and I could hear water crashing against something farther up the tunnel.

There was a small group of Stranded packing up what looked to be a thrown-together shanty camp. There were no set buildings, just random bed rolls spread out on the driest areas. They didn't look like people you'd see in the camp; they were skinnier, and paler, like they hadn't been outside in months. Their sickly pallor reminded me of the ghost-white skin of the Locust, and I shivered at the comparison.

There was an old man with a patched-together, black jacket who was packing everything he owned into a small, battered suitcase. He placed the last item in and shut it easily, which hinted that there wasn't much inside to begin with. He stood, giving me a curious glance. "Hey, hey you!" he called, "You come to get away from the Locust?"

"I…" I tried to say something, but I blanked. I felt, more than heard, Delta walk up behind me.

"What are you doing down here?" Marcus gruffed, with a bit of familiarity in his tone.

The old man caught sight of Marcus, and his lip curled in disgust. "Well," he said grandly, holding his arms out in a grand fashion, launching into his tale. "After you jackasses blew up my station and Franklin's outpost got overrun, the surface wasn't safe no more." I had no idea what he was talking about, but I'd bet it make one heck of a story.

Dom scoffed, coming up on Marcus' flank. "And…you guys thought down _here_ was safe?" he said, condescension literally dripping off of each word.

The old man waved his arms in a 'no way' manner, before turning around and picking up his suitcase. "Nowhere is, son, not anymore!" He stooped, turning his back to the gears. "We were fine here for a few months, as long as you stayed away from the roads, and Nexus. But now they're comin' around where they didn't before! Kidnapping people, torturing them…"

"Nexus?" Marcus said, taking a step forward.

"Yeah, Nexus. You got wax in your ears?" the man quipped. "_Nexus_ is where all the grubs come from."

As soon as he said 'Nexus', all four gears visibly brightened, as if happy to know they were on the right track. I, however, found what he said after to be more interesting.

"The grubs," I interrupted Marcus, who was as close to smiling as I had ever seen him. "They…they're taking prisoners? _Human_ prisoners?"

The man paused in his efforts, giving me a slightly sad look. "Aye," he said. "They come in the middle of the night, going down tunnels we thought were safe. We're leaving now; it ain't worth it to spend another night here!"

I turned to face the others in this small pack of roaming Stranded. Their eyes were shadowed and pain-filled, and probably had seen the Locusts steal away their loved ones. That accounted for the battlefields we had seen on our way in. One woman shot me a hate-filled look, and I recoiled from her, wondering why she would hate me so suddenly and so completely. It took me a second, but I finally understood. I was with these gears, and that made me COG. That turned me into something despicable, something to be hated. I wanted to tell the woman that I was Stranded, just like her. That I knew the struggles of life on the 'outside', but I couldn't. How could I explain - here, now, to these people who had already suffered so much - that I understood their pain, especially while standing there with a lancer in my hands? I couldn't. Not without coming across as insincere.

Marcus ignored this. "Hey, old man," he called again. "Nexus. Can we get there from here?"

The man shrugged, and gestured out across a wide lake of black, churning water. The end of it could not be seen from where we stood, stretching out into oblivion. "Sure you can," he said, staring out across the water that had taken his friends and family, doing heaven-only-knows-what to them now. "It's just across the lake. Don't know what good it'll do ya, you ain't getting in unless you're a locust."

Dom and Marcus exchanged a look. The old man wandered off, propelled by the need to get out of there as soon as possible. Marcus gathered us all in for a meeting. "Alright," he said, every bit the grizzled sergeant you'd expect. "Dom and I will continue on foot towards Nexus. Cole, you and Baird take the Centaur and get these people to the surface."

"What?" Baird snapped, looking pissed. "Marcus, you can't be serious!"

"These people will die if we leave them here. You can come back down with the grid lifts, when we bring the fight to Nexus."

Baird still looked pissed. "But-"

"C'mon, baby!" Cole interrupted. "This is where he tells you he'll take it under advisement." Cole patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, leading him back to the Centaur like a reluctant horse.

Dom and Marcus convened to make more plans, not taking any notice of me. I headed over to where the old man was scrubbing out a campfire. He was banking the embers to be brought back to life at a later date, although there probably wouldn't be a later date. Humans were nostalgic like that. Even if all signs pointed to the obvious - that you could never go back to what essentially was your home - you still wanted to leave a bit of yourself behind, if for no other reason than to let the next unfortunate soul that this place had once been important to another person, treat it well.

He kept working, kneeling next to the fire. He caught sight of my boots, and I watched as his eyes slowly traveled upward, finally meeting my gaze. "What do you want?" he asked, but there was no malice in his tone.

Instead of keeping my stance, standing tall next to his stooped frame, I knelt so we were at eye level, on equal footing. I glanced quickly behind me to make sure nobody was listening in before I opened my mouth. "These people," I said, "The ones the grubs have been taking. Where do they go? I mean, what do they want with them?"

He slowed in his efforts, gently stirring the dying embers that had once burned bright and strong, able to bring life - and death - to those around it. "They came while we were sleeping," he said somberly. "Night, day, it makes no difference here. We first heard the shots, but they were far away. Maybe they had run into another pack of people living further up in the tunnels, I don't know. But what I do know is when they got here, they were in a hurry. The ones who had weapons fought, the ones who didn't ran," he shook his head sadly. "In the end, it didn't make a difference. The Grubs won. They always win."

"But...you said that they took prisoners," I said, with thinly veiled enthusiasm. "That means they're still there!" I motioned behind me, to where Delta was preparing to move out. "We're heading into Nexus! We can rescue them!"

He shook his head, giving me a thin smile. "Nay," he said quietly. "Tell me, you ever seen anyone who'd been taken prisoner by them grubs, before?" he waited until I shook my head in a negative response. "There's a reason for that. Them grubs have a thing called 'processing', and they do it to all prisoners."

My enthusiasm flickered and dimmed a bit. I hadn't heard if it, but judging by his tone it couldn't be good. "What's that?" I asked a bit hesitantly.

"Tis a terrible thing," he said gravelly. "Tis is a very terrible thing. They string you up through giant hooks in yous back, whip ya with metal chains with spikes. Some are dipped into vats of burning implosion, held there till their flesh melts off thems bones. Starvation, decapitation, feeding bits of ya to their blood mounts," he kicked dirt over the banked embers, sighing. "And that ain't the worst of it."

I felt the blood rush away from my face, leaving me cold and pale. I felt sick, trying to imagine the unimaginable, no doubts that everything he said was true, "What's the worst bit?" I asked in a small voice.

"They cut ya'," he said, tapping the dirty flesh under his left eye. "They've got a machine. It cuts into your brain. Erases your memories, your personality, makes you a mindless slave to the Locust. And there's not a thing you can do to prevent it."

"Is there no way to reverse it?" I asked, my eyes wide. I've seen countless horrors of war; seen my fill and more of gore and terrible, terrible things. But this, this deliberate torture and elongating of pain, was something that caught me unawares. It would be so much more humane and moral to just shoot the poor bastards, not torture them and draw out their suffering. It was a horrible thing, just one more indecency in an immoral and desolate world.

Then again, whoever accused the Locust of being the beacon of honor and mercy?

"Nay," he said, slowly lowering his hand to his side. He picked up his suitcase, still staring somberly at the fire pit. "Not a way in the world. Once the locust get their filthy claws into ya', your as good as dead. Worse, even."

I watched in silence as he walked away, suitcase dangling limply from one hand. I stood there until Sam nudged my side to get me going. I walked up to Marcus, chin held high. He was near the Centaur, trying - and failing - to raise someone on the radio. He gave an exasperated grunt when he saw me, dropping his hand from his ear. "Damn tunnels," he groused, before looking at me. "What do you want?" He sounded vaguely annoyed, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was pissed at me.

"I want into Nexus," I informed him. Not giving home a choice in the matter, I said, "I'm coming with you."

I must have taken him by surprise, as he gave a short, terse sigh. His glacier -blue eyes appraised me, and I tried to look tough and intimidating. It didn't matter either way; I was coming along, with or without his 'approval'. I'd always lived my life free from interference from anyone, and I wasn't about to start heeding the will of some stodgy gear who thought he could boss me around.

"Is that so," he said, although I could tell it wasn't a question. "And what makes you think that?"

I motioned with my head to the few people still packing up their home. "The prisoners, they're still in Nexus. We can rescue them."

Whatever response he thought I was going to give - that wasn't it. He actually looked surprised for a second. Well, he kind of squinted, and looked like he wanted to raise an eyebrow, but I was learning that that passed for surprise with Marcus. He shifted his weight, the armor plates on his body rustling as he did so. "And how do I know you're not lying to us again?"

It was my turn to be surprised. "Lie?" I spat, stunned, and slightly pissed off. I didn't have time for lies; eventually you'd have to come out with the truth, and dealing with the aftermath just wasted time. Tell everything straight, and it led to a hell of a lot less complications. "When the hell did I lie to you?"

"You said your parents were dead," he began, giving me a cutting look with those damn eyes of his.

"They are!" I insisted, utterly bewildered. What was _with_ him and his insistence on who my parents were?

He took a half step forward. If he was looking to intimidate me, he was doing fine. "Who's this 'Momma', then?"

It took me a second, but it finally clicked for me. Marcus had thought that Momma was my real mother. I felt the urge to facepalm, but also the urge to shoot him in his foot. What gave him the right to care, anyway? I hadn't even known these men for more than a week. It was critical that I remembered that.

"Momma from the camp?" I asked him, unnecessarily. Who else went by 'Momma'? "It's just a nickname. She's the caretaker of the camp. Everyone calls her Momma."

Again with the Marcus' trademark I'm-Surprised-But-I-Won't-Show-It look. "So, she's not your mother?" he asked, and I shook my head mutely. "And your parents are dead?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, my parents are dead! Not sure why you find that so fascinating…" In truth, I wasn't so sure. It wasn't until I had met Marcus, and his constant questioning about my parentage, that I had ever doubted this. I hadn't seen any of my family since E-day, and good riddance. If they were still alive, and had left me to suffer alone, they'd have some serious explaining to do. After all I had been through for not having a family, someone watching my back, it would be inexcusable for them to just abandon me. Some things couldn't be forgiven.

Marcus exhaled, exasperated. "Are you sure? There's absolutely no chance your family is still alive, somewhere? Your father?"

"Look," I snapped, fully pissed off. "Before E-day, my 'father' was a gear, and I never saw him again after the grubs emerged. So I'm assuming he's dead, along with my mother. If not, I _don't _want to know that bastard. If he's the sort to abandon his kids, I'll put a round in his skull myself. Understand?" I had spent years waiting, praying, hoping, that my 'father' would come rescue me, every time Bane was drunk and beating up on me. Nothing changed, no matter how hard I wished for it to.

"Understood," he said, his jaw clenched tight. He gave me one more searching look, before turning and calling for Baird. Baird had been supervising the loading of the camp's meager supplies onto the Centaur, tearing into some guy who had bumped the controls with his suitcase. Baird gave him one last disgusted look, before heeding Marcus' call. Cole shook his head at Baird's back, helping the man lift the suitcase into the Centaur's rear hatch.

"Something I can help you with?" Baird muttered to Marcus, every bit the sarcastic cynic I had met outside New Hope. Marcus ignored the attitude, though.

"Change of plans," he said quietly. "Bri's coming with us, into Nexus."

Baird snapped his gaze to me, looking blindsided. "You've got to be shitting me!" he exploded. "She's not ready for this! She hasn't had the training for this, she hasn't even shot that lancer in combat! And you're taking _her_ into Nexus, and leaving us for baby-sitting?"

"Listen, asshole," I snapped at him, moving to stand between him and Marcus. I shoved him in the middle of his chest, but he didn't move, just glared down at me. "I could shoot circles around you, and you know it. I don't need you watching my back like my friggin' mother, understand? Now get you ugly-ass mug out of my face, or I'm going shove your gun so far up your ass you'll be tasting gunpowder." We glared at each other, neither of us backing down. Baird had already saved my ass one too many times, and I didn't want to get in the habit of someone playing white knight for me. It was best to close this off, whatever _this_ was, before I got in way too deep.

"Fine," he spat. He pulled away first, heading back towards the Centaur. Over his shoulder, he called, "Never thought I'd be glad to go to a funeral, but in your case I'll make an exception."

I turned around, and Marcus was eyeing me warily. "What?" I snapped at him, already fed up with the drama of serving with an entire squad. I was pining for the days of it being just Sam and I against the world.

"Nothing," he said in that infuriatingly calm voice of his. "Don't be too hard on him, alright? May not seem like it, but that was him actually showing concern for somebody."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever," I muttered, exhausted with the constant stream of back-talk. I watched Baird as he took a suitcase from a pregnant woman and shoved it on the top of the stack. It was for the best, I decided. Whatever he could turn out to be, at least for me, it would be one more complication that I didn't need - or want. And that was if I didn't end up shooting him first, which didn't seem that far-fetched.

It was then I realized I hadn't seen Dom in a while. Doing a quick scan of the tunnels, eyes straining against the absence of light, I spotted him talking to the old man in the black jacket. He was holding something up, and I'd bet my new lancer it was the picture of his wife. Without a word to Marcus, I headed in their direction. If nothing else, I could inform Dom that I would be coming with them into Nexus. I heard heavy footfalls behind me, and realized Marcus was following me.

"You recognize this woman?" Dom asked the old man. "Name's Maria." The man examined the photograph closely. I sighed, impatient, sure that there was no hope that he had ever seen her.

The man took the photo from Dom, holding it closer to his face. "Pretty young thing," he turned so his back was to the Centaur, the light shining on the picture. He was facing me, and I searched his face for any signs of recognition. "Hmm…something about her face does seem familiar…"

My eyebrows shot skyward. Did this man know Maria? Dom shifted his weight, stepping closer to the man. "Maybe she was with one of the other groups that came down before," the man continued. Nobody breathed, waiting to see if this was it; if Dom would finally get the love of his life back. "Yeah…" he breathed, comprehension dawning in his voice. "She was with Stu's group…but…" he trailed off.

"But _what?_" Dom asked desperately.

The old man's eyes were sad as they tore themselves off the picture, and up to Dom's hopeful face. "They were taken prisoner a week ago."

I think my mouth fell open, because I distinctly remember closing it. All the horror stories about 'processing' he had just told me, now he was saying that those _things _had happened to Maria? "Oh, no…" Dom breathed, eyes wide.

"The captured ones," I interjected, voice loud to hide the fact I was shaking on the inside. "You said they took them towards Nexus, right? Where would they be?"

"They'd be at Nexus, right?" Marcus asked as he came up behind Dom, an unstoppable force ready to take on the Locust army to save his best friend's wife.

The old man looked between us, wisely choosing to answer Marcus' question first. "Probably," he said. "Or the work camps along the way."

"How do we find them?" Marcus asked.

He pointed out across the lake with one dirty hand. "When you get to the highway, near the dam, there's a path that'll take you there."

Dom carefully tucked the picture of Maria back into his chest plates, still looking thunderstruck. I'd seen that same look on people who had seen battles first-hand; the look that said something really bad had just happened, but their mind wasn't ready to absorb it yet. Whenever Dom imagined meeting his wife again, I doubt he thought it would mean rescuing her from a grub torture camp. "Thanks, old man," Dom said.

He shrugged, indifferent. "Don't know what good it does you," he said. "You ain't getting in there unless you're a locust."

He turned back towards the Centaur, ready to move out with the rest of the group. I jogged up to Cole. "Hey, Lil sis!" he called, meeting me half-way. "Baird says you're going to Nexus?"

"Yeah," I said, keeping it short. "Listen, Dom may have found Maria. There's a guy here who thinks he saw her with another group that was taken prisoner a week ago. If Dom does find her, he's going to be pretty distracted. I think Marcus could use some back up down there." It was just an excuse, though. I'd be going down into Nexus even if I hadn't promised Dom I'd help find his wife.

"Oh, shit…" Cole breathed, stunned. Reaching up to his ear, he pulled his com-link out. "Here," he said. "Sounds like some shit's about to go down. I'll be sticking to Baird's ass. You need anything, press this button _here,_" he pointed to it, "And we'll both come running. That's a promise, baby." He fit the com-link in my ear, where it blocked off my hearing. He gave it a twist, and it seated more comfortably in my ear.

"Thanks," I said, feeling the comm hesitantly with my fingers. "I guess…"

He clapped me on the back, giving me a nod. He wished me good luck, then slammed shut the Centaur's rear hatch. The comm buzzed uncomfortably in my ear, bringing with it the sound of Delta's breathing. Baird walked past me to the Centaur, pausing when I called his name. "Listen," I said, swallowing my pride. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. It was uncalled for."

He snorted, "Don't be. I don't care either way." Of course he didn't care. Why would I even let myself believe otherwise?

I cursed under my breath, then motioned to the mass of people ready to move out under Cole and Baird's protection. "These people, take them to the camp. Dix will take care of them; find them homes and food and whatnot. And tell Dix…" I hesitated, searching Baird's face. He stared at me hard, and I found the words I wanted to say. "Tell Dix that I'm sorry."

"What am I, your messenger?" he spat sourly, and turned away. I glared at his retreating form, turning to meet up with Dom and Marcus; fighting mad, and calling Baird some creative names in my mind. _Put it behind you, and get your head in the game_. Trying to move past the confusing anger, I clicked my fingers for Sam to follow me. I had thought about leaving her with Cole and Baird to take back to the surface, but figured she probably wouldn't listen to them.

"You ready?" Marcus asked me, standing next to the foot path that would lead us down to the lake, and into Nexus. And, if luck had anything to do with it, to Maria. Dom looked eager to be on his way, and kept shifting his weight back and forth as he stared out into the sea of darkness.

I answered Marcus' question with a simple nod. We started down the footpath, leaving behind the protection of the Centaur and the warmth of the smoldering camp fires.

There was no going back now.

**Author's Note- Oh...things are getting interesting! (Well, hopefully, it has _all_ been interesting, but...)**

Huge thanks to rockforthecross74 for betaing this! 

**So, any ideas on what is waiting for them in Nexus? Besides Maria, obviously. Love to hear your thoughts on it! As always, reviewers get a preview of the next chapter, and my enternal gratitude! So what are you waiting for? Hit that beautiful review button underneath here and talk to me! GO! :D**


	12. The Open Door

Jacinto's Military Base of Operations

Seven Years After E-day

_I got to admit, It's tough to keep going. Everyone I loved is dead. Some call them the lucky ones... the ones that died on E-day, they never lived to see how much we've lost and how many principles we've compromised. But whenever I doubt what we're fighting for I just look to my squad. I mean, maybe it's a good thing we lost everything. It's like a clean slate. We can make the world we always wanted to. Without repeating the same mistakes. I look at guys like Jace and Dom and realize we'll inherit this world. We're the ones who will make Sera beautiful again. That's a world worth fighting for._

— _Excerpt from the journal of Sgt. Marcus Fenix, found in Tollen._

**The long, dimly lit corridor watched silently as Ace paced back and forth down the tiled lane. His footsteps echoed around him as he listened furtively for any other sound. The girl he had rescued was behind the thick, heavy door that he passed over time and time again. He had forced her into a trip to the clinic as soon as they arrived at the base. By then, she had finished the last of the bread on the trip, and was looking like she had second thoughts about trusting him. Her wide brown eyes had stared at him accusingly as the doctor led her away. He still felt guilt churning in the pit of his stomach, even though he reasoned that it was for the best. **

**Finally, **_**finally**_**, the heavy door opened slowly. No light spilled out, as the examining room behind it was kept dim. The female doctor came out, boots making soft **_**thunks**_** on the tile. Her white coat gleamed softly in the darkness, billowing slightly like a cape as she strode purposefully out of the room. She looked like an avenging angel, as the dim light reflected off her coat and blond hair, backlighting her as the door softly shut behind her. She sighed, and the angel fell. Ace saw her exhaustion in her eyes, and he had a pang of sympathy for her. She had a hard life, stitching up gears and civilians after battles, just to watch them die weeks later. **

"**How is she?" he asked her, trying hard to mask the twinge of anxiety in his voice. He already felt responsible for this young girl, although she would probably split the first chance she got.**

**The doctor gave a tired sigh, strapping her stethoscope around her neck in a familiar gesture. "Not good," she said, her voice strained. "She's been through hell the past few days, and probably longer than that. I have no idea who did that to her, but he better pray I never get my hands on him."**

"**What's wrong?" he asked, worriedly. As they were walking in, he noticed the myriad of discolored bruises that decorated the girl's arms and the side of her face. She had a number of scars along her body, but when he asked about them, she gave him an icy look and told him to mind his own business. **

"**Nothing I haven't seen before," the doctor said, motioning down the hallway for him to follow. She went to the supply cabinet, Ace hot on her heels, and began straightening the precious cache of medical supplies. "Severe malnourishment to begin with. Slight musle atrophy. Her fair share of burns - the worst of which I treated. Evidence of long term abuse, a few minor fractures along her cheekbone and collarbone." She paused, slowing in her efforts as she restacked piles of gauze. "And bruises. God, I've seen gears come back from combat with less scars and bruises." **

**Ace felt a chill go down his spine. "Anything permanent?" **

"**She'll probably carry the scars forever, but hopefully not anything else. Her growth has been impeded by years of malnutrition, and she's on the low end of the growth scale, but there's still time to reverse that. She's not finished growing, so with good food and nutrients, she'll hopefully have a few growth spurts." She turned suddenly on her heels. "That's not her worst problem, though." She glared at him through angry eyes, and straightened her back as if to intimidate him.**

**He mentally backpedaled, wondering if he did anything wrong to offend her. "What?" he asked ungracefully, eyes wide. **

"**I want to talk to you about something," she said, then looked around the hallway for anyone who might overhear. "She can't stay in the clinic forever. We simply don't have to room, nor the supplies. What are you planning to do with her when she's discharged?"**

**He hadn't thought that far ahead, and he informed her of such. She didn't look surprised at his admission, nodding slowly. "Well, think about it now," she quipped, her efficient nature evident in her brash voice. "Will you send her to the orphanage?"**

**He reared backwards, disgusted by the thought. "Only if I wanted her to be miserable the rest of her life," he snapped, anger in his voice. The 'orphanage' was a run down facility on the opposite side of town. It was understaffed, under-managed, and the kids there underfed. It was a resting place for the young displaced civilians until the COG could get their hands on them and groom them for soldiers or breeding stock. **

**She looked as if she expected that answer. "Alright then, you are **_**not**_** going to return ****her to where she came from, wherever the hell that is. I'd neuter you if you tried." ****He flinched slightly, evidently imagining life without his two closest friends. "So what then?" she continued. "Return her to the streets?" **

"**Not if I can help it," he said, his voice simmering with anger at the unfairness of the situation. The doctor was watching him pityingly now, as if she realized the task he had saddled himself with. No matter how he tried to spin this, he was too young, the girl too old, the doctor too busy, the system too corrupt. If he left to watch her, the COG would abandon him. If he stayed in the COG to take care of her needs, she'd probably leave the first chance she got. If he abandoned her, he'd kill himself with guilt. **

**If he fought, he couldn't win. **

**He promised the doctor he'd think about it; hopefully a solution would drop out of the sky soon enough. "I'll check back in a few days," she half promised, half threatened. She whirled down the hallway, her strides quick and purposeful. Ace watched her go before turning and heading back towards Bri's room. He opened the heavy door slowly, watching to see if the girl was awake yet. Bri had panicked when the doctor tried to x-ray her, so she had very deftly slipped her a sedative. **

**Bri was still sleeping peacefully, and Ace listened quietly to the sound of her labored breathing. The white bandages stood in stark contrast to her tanned skin. What really sickened him was that he knew if he hadn't brought her in, she'd have gone longer without medical treatment. Her injuries weren't life-threatening, but they had to be painful. He wondered idly who did this to her, and why she let it continue, and what he'd do if he ever met the sorry excuse who had beat her. **

**The scratchy hospital cot the girl lay upon groaned as she turned over in her sleep. The used and reused hospital gown she was dressed in - one that had probably been used and reused many times - engulfed her skinny body, as if she was awash in a sea of fabric. Her clothes that she had been wearing when she came to the clinic were so degraded, torn, and filthy that the doctor had immediately ordered them thrown away. The pack she had protected from him lay on the ground next to her cot, so that her scant belongings would be the first thing she saw when she woke. Ace knew from experience that waking up in an unfamiliar place could be jarring, and people tended to overreact when frightened. **

**He sighed, pulling up an old milk carton to sit on. He'd sit with her until she woke, and hopefully she wouldn't attack him upon regaining consciousness. He placed his boots on the table next to the cot, crossing his legs. Something fell to the ground as the table rocked with his movement, creating a small tinkling sound when it hit the ground. He bent to pick it up. **

**It was a small, silver locket. The chain was fastened, and child-sized. The locket was broken, with half of it missing. He rubbed his hand over the stenciled decorations on the front before flipping it over in his hands. The picture inside was faded, but he could still clearly see the smiling face of a young woman who closely resembled the girl sleeping in front of him. Her dark hair was tied in a high ponytail, quick and easy. In her arms she held a young boy, about six or seven. He smiled at the camera man, his black, carefully-combed hair expertly parted in the middle. His clothes matched seamlessly, but Ace smiled when he noticed that the boy's shoes were untied and on the wrong feet. **

**Ace thumbed the broken hinge on the side of the locket. It looked like it had been stepped on, as the cheap metal was bent and oxidized from an injury long ago. He spun the locket on the chain, wondering if it was the girl's, or if she had stolen it. He surmised that it was the former, judging by the resemblance. **

**A flurry of activity directed his attention off the locket and back to the cot. Bri was sitting upright, having snatched her pack off the ground and was now holding it possessively in front of her. She watched him silently, the way a gazelle would watch a lion, wondering if it was hungry enough or determined enough to take them down. He let his boots fall to the ground and he smiled reassuringly at her. "You're awake," he observed.**

**Bri's eyebrow twitched, as if she wanted to hike it up, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Gazelles didn't tease lions. Her far hand blindly felt the thin hospital gown in confusion. "The doc took your clothes. We'll get you some new ones soon. For now, you'll have to stay here," he explained to her, hoping for some reaction. She eyed him once more, before slumping against the wall, her pack still pressed tight to her. She played with one of the bandages on her arm, her eyes never straying from him for very long. She didn't say a word, instead deciding to wait for him to leave so she could gather her things and slip out of sight. **

**Ace stood, looking tall and hulking in the small, dim room. She watched him from the corner of her eyes, body instinctively tensing to run if need be. He held out the locket invitingly, his hand held face up so she wouldn't have to touch him to take it. "Is this yours?" **

**She didn't answer; didn't react at all. Her dark eyes traveled over the small locket once, then went back to studying the faded print in the gown she now wore. Ace almost flipped it back to the table, until he saw her hand reaching for it. She didn't look to see where her hand was going. It didn't seem to be a conscious effort at all. It was as if somebody else was controlling her, forcing her to hold her hand out, palm up, expectantly, for the locket. He was pretty sure that if somebody had reached between them and plucked the locket from their hands, she wouldn't have minded at all; wouldn't have even noticed. Befuddled, Ace dropped the broken, child-sized locket into her small, grimy hands. **

**She tucked the locket into her pack nonchalantly, as if it meant nothing to her. **

"**Who are they?" he asked, referring to the pictures in the locket. **

"**Dead," she answered simply. "They're all dead." Her voice unveiled no hidden emotion, almost as if she was stating the weather. **

**Ace cocked an eyebrow, curious about the locket. It didn't appear to be something she cared much about. However, for some reason she didn't discard it. Even broken as it was, it probably could have been traded for a bit of food or medicine. Or, at the very least, melted down into scrap silver. Ace wondered why someone on the street, who was literally starving, held on to a meaningless locket. Unless...the locket actually meant something to her, and she was just reluctant to show it. **

"**Is she your mother?" he asked her, motioning vaguely to the locket now stowed away in her pack.**

"**Was," she corrected sharply, shifting her piercing gaze to meet his. "She **_**was**_** my mother."**

**Ace didn't back down, yearning for any information the girl could give him to unravel the mystery of her past. "You look a lot alike. Especially in the eyes."**

**She stared at him coldly, warning him to drop the subject. "Not really. I was always told I had my father's eyes." She muttered the last part under her breath, "Not that I'd know…"**

"**Your father?" he questioned her, remembering the one figure absent from the locket's picture. "Do you know where he is? Is he the one who did this to you?"**

"**I said they're dead!" She yelled at him, eyes blazing as she bounded to her feet. "**_**Dead**_**! Don't you get that? You know, 'no longer with us'? 'Taking a dirt nap'? 'Resting in peace'? Now, just drop it, okay?"**

**Ace held his hands out comfortingly, taking a step back. Obviously he had touched a nerve. She was standing defensively, arms slightly raised as if preparing for a fight. Her stance was all wrong, however, and Ace could have easily knocked her over if it did turn into a brawl. "Easy," he murmured, taking another step back just in case. If she attacked, he wasn't worried about her hurting him, more how she would hurt herself. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong-"**

"**It **_**doesn't**_**," she outlined, interrupting him. **

"**But I'm just curious," he continued, giving her a look. Just because he was trying to go slow with her didn't mean he was going to tolerate outright insubordination. Around the military base, she'd get in a lot of trouble fast if she didn't keep her attitude in check. "Just tell me if I'm getting too personal, and I'll back off." **

**She was still fuming, her eyes bright. She gave him one last glower before quickly shifting her eyes down to the hospital gown that draped around her small frame. **

**He slowly lowered his hands. "Here, I'll go get you some clothes, and then we can go down to the cafeteria and get something more to eat."**

**She looked troubled by this. "I thought you said I was just going to work off my debt and leave?"**

"**Doc's orders," he said, winking at her. He opened the door to the exam room and found a black hoodie and nondescript gray pants laying on the exam tray outside the room. He tossed both articles to her, standing outside while she changed. She dressed quickly, then joined him in the hallway, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. Her dirty satchel was wrapped around her shoulders. Everything about her was nondescript; there was nothing special about her. If she disappeared off the face of Sera overnight, there wouldn't be a soul alive to miss her, and her actions belied that she was well aware of that fact. **

**She scanned the hallway quickly, eyes settling for a second on the exit and a tray of surgical supplies. Ace watched her, trying to guess what she would do next as he led her down to the cafeteria. She followed along behind him; a little far back, but not overtly separated from him. She kept her head down, not making eye contact with the few nurses and walking-wounded passing by them. Ace could take her surly silence no longer. "Aw…cheer up, would you?" he said jovially, forming a loose fist and lightly tapping her on the shoulder.**

**She stumbled back a step in surprise, narrowing her eyes at him. "And how is punching me in the arm supposed to cheer me up?" she snapped, placing her hands on her hips.**

**Ace hadn't thought about that. He blinked at her, taken aback. "I…I dunno," he stumbled. "Always works with the gears."**

"**Well, they're thick, aren't they?" she groused, giving him another glare.**

**His jaw tightened. "I'm a gear," he said curtly. **

"**Point proven," she snipped briskly, looking away from him as if the matter was closed. Ace narrowed his eyes and gently punched her again, but this time with more force. She stumbled back a step, earning him another glower from her. He grinned innocently at her, his boyish looks making her heart thump unevenly. "I hate you…" she growled under her breath.**

"**Hate ya' too, there, Bri," he said after her, leading them off to the cafeteria. Before he got out of range, she stuck her foot out, catching him in the ankle and making him stumble. "Why you-" he gasped, catching to wall to regain his balance. He looked up just in time to see her take off down the hallway.**

**As she ran, she looked over her shoulder so she could watch him try to stand back up. "Catch me if you can!" she goaded him, adding more strength to each stretch of her lithe legs. **

"**You're gonna regret that!" he yelled after her, tearing off like a race horse out of the blocks. He stumbled once more when he heard the delicate peals of her laughter echoing back to him through the hallway. **_**She laughed…**_**he thought, dumbfounded. In the short while he had known her, she had always been guarded with him, watching him through suspicious eyes. His lips twisted when he realized that was finally beginning to change, that she was just beginning to relax around him. **

**He didn't stop to ponder this new revelation long, though. After all, he did have a race to win.**

* * *

The small wooden boat bumped against the dock, snapping me out of my daydream. We were one step closer to Nexus. Marcus climbed onto the wooden deck easily, doing a quick scan of the surrounding area. "Come on," he growled, taking off. His metal boots made odd, hollow _thunks _along the deck.

Dom passed me as we followed Marcus, slapping me on the shoulder as he went by. I rolled my eyes as I patted my hip for Sam to follow me. She did so happily, nudging my side to get me going faster. I adjusted my longshot on my back before falling in with Marcus' light jog.

The road to Nexus was dim and dirty, with scattered, archaic architecture holding up the earthen roof. The huge tunnels were oppressing and stifling, despite their huge size. It was a feeling that came from just being underground, in a place that so obviously screamed 'danger'.

Our path was lit by metal torches. Odd fixtures and designs adorned the light fixtures; almost as if they were conveying sacred messages. No two torches were the same. Suddenly realizing where my train of thought was going, I forced my eyes from them angrily. Nothing the Locust did - or were - was to be admired.

It was a long hike through abandoned tunnels before Marcus finally held his hand up to stop us. I was strangely relieved;the emptiness to be oddly off putting. Talk of this mission had been heavy on the danger, and now that we were here, it seemed almost too easy. The ease with which we had gotten here did nothing to offset my fears, however, and I kept my eyes watchful as Marcus spoke.

"Look there," he gestured. Dom pulled out a pair of beaten binoculars and followed Marcus' hand with his gaze. He cursed quietly before handing the pair to me. I put the dirty lenses to my face, searching for a minute before finding what Marcus had been pointing out. There, off in the distance, was an envoy of Locust. Every time of grub imaginable; from boomers and wretches, to bloodmounts and brumacks. There had to be hundreds of them, all traveling in one direction, to where I could only assume their main city - Nexus - was. Despite the distance between me and the traveling convoy, my stomach still gave a little wobble of fear, and my palms dampened on the binoculars. Seeing that many nightmares in one place was enough to give anyone the shakes.

"Think they're heading to Nexus?" I asked, passing the binoculars back to Dom while trying to stop my hands from trembling.

Marcus nodded, looking at them from his own pair of binoculars. Dom tucked his pair back into his LBD. "With that many troops on the move, that's got to be the highway."

"Well…I figure I can take about fifty of 'em, what about you guys?" I quipped. Marcus didn't even acknowledge the sarcasm.

"Then let's follow them to where the action is," Marcus said, starting to move as if that declaration was final.

I looked to Dom. The old man's directions had been to break off at the highway, and follow another path to the torture camps. "Wait, Marcus," Dom said, halting him in his tracks. "The old man said we had to branch off the highway at the dam."

Marcus hung his head for a second and sighed thinly. "Look," he said in a tone that revealed he didn't want to say this. "We need to stick to the mission. We have no idea if Maria's down here, and every-"

Dom interrupted him. "I _need_ to know!" he exploded. "Look, you don't have to go with me, all right?"

I watched to see what Marcus would do. He wouldn't really take this chance away from Dom, would he? I understood the importance of finding Nexus, but some things came before the mission. I'd learned that the hard way.

Marcus shook his head, aggravated. "Damnit, that's just gonna get us both killed! We need to get into the stronghold, and activate the beacon!" he motioned with his lancer toward the direction the grubs were going. "This is _it_, Dom," he said emphatically. "This is _everythin_g we've been fighting for."

"Yeah? Well, Maria's everything _I've_ been fighting for!" Dom got in Marcus' face, his eyes narrowing. "She's my fuckin' wife, all right?"

"So you're going to turn your back on your whole world, then?" Marcus growled at him. Dom turned around and shook his head, aggravated. "The other gears we've fought with, all the people who've died…?"

I stared between them, not willing to get between the two monstrous gears. I could see where both of them were coming from, but I emphasized with Dom. Sometimes, the mission had to take a back seat. Dom might never get a chance like this again. Still, I got the feeling that it might not be smart to piss off Marcus at the moment, especially when there were so many convenient holes to throw my body into.

"I'm sorry, Marcus," Dom said quietly. He'd already made up his mind to go after Maria, and nothing Marcus was going to say was going to change his mind. "After what you did for your father, I thought you'd understand." He gave Marcus one disappointed look before adjusting his lancer and taking off in the direction for the side road.

I watched him walk away slowly before turning to Marcus. "Hey," I said softly, getting his attention. The gear exhaled sharply, giving me a cutting look with his piercing eyes. "This mission to Nexus is important, I'll give you that. But - and this comes from experience - it's not knowing someone you love is dead, it's the _not _knowing that's torture." He gave me a more serious look, showing me I had his attention. "You can't always play by the rules. Sometimes, you just gotta listen to your heart and do what you know is right."

He sighed, finally looking away. "Last time I did that, I killed an entire city," he said quietly. I realized he was thinking about the attack on Ephyra, and how he had left the battle with the Hammer of Dawn targeting system, allowing the locust to gain control of the city and causing countless deaths. Not exactly on par with what I did, but I still felt the same level of guilt.

I spared the highway a worried look before switching my gaze back to him. "Well…maybe that wasn't the best argument," I muttered. "Maybe you can make up a little bit for that. Come on, how many chances do you get to reunite a family? They'll never be able to thank you enough."

He gave an odd little growl, flicking his blue eyes towards Nexus and then back to me. "Aww…hell," he growled. He lifted his hand to his comm link and depressed the button. "Dom," he called. "Wait up."

Dom paused, giving Marcus a look that hinted he knew all along that his brother-in-arms would never abandon him. I gave him a wan smile as we caught up to him. "Let's go get this Maria of yours, shall we?"

The tunnels were dimly lit and abandoned as we made our way down the trail towards the prison camps. The smell of fecal matter and unwashed bodies hung in the air, catching in the back of my throat and making me gag occasionally. The stench just added to my growing fear that if we did find Maria, she would have already been 'processed', or worse. _Much _worse. I mentally flinched when I imagined how Dom would react if we found his wife a 'mindless slave', as the old man so eloquently put it. Dom didn't deserve that, I had decided. I admired his unwavering faith that he would find his wife. After ten years of fruitless searching, the man deserved a break. _Maybe if my family had given a thought to searching for me, they would have found me before-_

I stopped that thought dead in its tracks. My family was dead, and that was all there was to that. In fact, it had been years since I'd even spared them so much as a thought. I chalked up the odd bout of nostalgia to Marcus' unyielding questions about my heritage. Still...questions or no, thinking about my family was just plain _strange _to me. I was grateful for the distraction when Dom held his hand up to stop us, motioning ahead with one finger.

"Looks like the old man's intel was solid," Marcus grumbled in a low voice. They were looking out over a balcony, and I moved forward to see what they were staring at, eyes cold and somber.

It was a prisoner work camp. The soft _clunks _of pickaxes could be heard pounding as human slaves labored away, presumably making new tunnels for the Locust to burrow through. The prisoners were starved thin; their emaciated appearance evident even at this great distance. Their clothes were filthy and torn; scarred flesh visible through vertical gaps in their shirts. I could only assume that such markings were the result of whippings. Even now I could see grub guards holding long, leather whips with metal hooks on them. I watched, horrified, as one prisoner tripped and fell. The guard nearest him started forward, uncoiling his whip as he went. The male prisoner hastily hurried to his knees, and I could see his hands come together pleadingly, but it was too late. The whip made a _crack!_ as it whistled through the air. The screams of the prisoner echoed around us as the grub continued his assault. I closed my eyes, wincing as I heard the whip make contact again and again.

Finally, long after the agonized screams of the prisoner had subsided, the whistling of the whip stopped. I forced my eyes to open, and they rested on the gruesome sight of the prisoner lying deathly still in a puddle of his own blood. The locust guard was recoiling his whip, the ends stained dark with red. The surrounding prisoners didn't even hesitate, didn't spare a glance for the cruel act placed before them. It was if they were so used to the murderous act that they failed to see why my heart was suddenly pounding harder, and why my fists were locked in a white-knuckled grip on the handrails.

"We have to help them," I whispered blankly through numb lips, getting ready to leap onto the hand-rail. I wasn't sure what I was going to do - jump off the balcony and rush the guards head on, maybe, but Dom's firm grip on my arm stopped me.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, sounding both amazed and somewhat condescending.

My eyes flicked up to him, and then back down to the camp as another guard lashed his whip at a group of prisoners threateningly. "We can't just leave them there!" I exclaimed, my eyes automatically going to the prisoner who lay so still in his own blood. My memory jumped to another scene, one where I had also stood by helplessly while the man I loved lay mortally wounded, with no way to help him.

Dom's voice was cold when he answered. "I don't like it either, but there's nothing we can do. Even if we tried-"

"So you're just going to slink away like a bunch of cowards?" I tried to yell, but the words were strangled around the lump in my throat and came out as a hard whisper. I yanked my arm away from him. "What if it was Maria down there? What would you do then?"

Dom's expression shifted, and he looked like I had just struck him. His mouth opened, but it was Marcus who spoke. "Bri," he said, waiting until I met his gaze to continue. "There's too many of them. We need to stay focused on the mission. If there was any other way to rescue them, we would. I'm the last person to leave a man to die."

My eyes drifted downwards as he spoke, raking over the squalid conditions they were working in. It seemed so wrong, somehow, to know that we were right here, and yet unable to do a thing to help them. "You told me to listen to my heart," Marcus said quietly, his deep voice the softest I had ever heard. I turned back to him, and his ice-blue eyes pierced mine, urging me to be rational. "I'm asking you to listen to reason."

I broke eye contact then, staring unseeingly at the miles upon miles of prisoners, slaving away under the cruel dictatorship of the locust. Even as every fiber in my being was calling upon me to rescue them, to save them in some way, Marcus' words cut straight through those desires, reminding me that there was no capable way of doing that. "You're right…" I whispered. "There's nothing we can do."

Sam whined softly, as if she could sense my unease. "I'm sorry, Bri," Dom said, but I just nodded, signaling that I had heard. It felt like it would kill me to do so, but I forced myself away from the horrendous scene taking place just below me; following Dom and Marcus farther and farther towards Nexus... and to Maria. Every step was excruciating, and just before we left the scene forever, I spared one final glance to the man I had never known - the man I would never know - lying almost forgotten in a puddle of drying blood.

* * *

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," I deadpanned, staring at the small square foot of space reserved for me in the tiny lift. Marcus stood by the elevator controls with a slightly exasperated look on his face.

Dom looked at me, surprised. "What?" he said, oh-so-eloquently. Sam wagged her tail slightly, the movement causing it to brush against my leg in an irritating rhythm. She stood with two paws in the lift, two paws out, waiting for me to make up my mind.

I hesitated just outside, staring into the dark, confined space, made all the smaller by the two huge, hulking gears dominating the tiny room. The walls were made out of darkened stone that pulled any and all light away, making the elevator shaft seem more ominous than it was. "There is _no way _I'm getting on that lift," I say, lifting my chin as if that would make it more sincere.

Marcus gave a tiny sight. "Don't tell me you're claustrophobic," he says.

I blinked once, and then narrowed my eyes at him in a confused glare. "Claster- _what_?"

"It's a fear of small spaces," Dom informed me. He looked edgy, like he was anxious to get going.

I raised my chin, taking one hand off my lancer and petulantly placing it on my hip. "I'm not afraid of nothing."

"Oh, no, of course not," Dom muttered under his breath. "Just the typical plummeting-to-your-death kind of nothing."

I rolled my eyes. "Correction," I snappeed at him, jabbing one finger his way. "I'm not afraid of _you _plummeting to your death; so much as I am _me _plummeting to my death. Clear?"

Marcus gave another little sigh, but before he could say anything, Dom started yelling again. "Look!" he exploded, taking a step in my direction. "We're wasting time that we don't have! Either get on the damn lift, or stay here until we find Maria, and we'll come back and retrieve you."

"No!" Marcus and I said at the same time, and then exchanged glances awkwardly. Pushing away any nagging thoughts about why Marcus would care if I was left behind, I glanced behind me to the balcony, down at the floor - anywhere but at Dom. Tracing the path of the balcony from the light of the torhes placed along the route, I got an idea. "How about this," I proposed, swinging my gaze back to Dom and Marcus. "You guys head down on the lift. I'll follow your path along the balcony.

"No," Marcus said sternly before I could turn around. "We stay together." His tone implied that this wasn't up for debate, but he was forgetting one thing. I didn't _have_ to take commands from Marcus.

I tapped the comm that Cole had given me earlier, drawing their attention to it. "If you need me, just call. After all, backup is kinda my thing." I pulled my sniper from off my shoulders, patting the stock reassuringly.

Marcus gave a grunt of exasperation. "You do that, and you're just gonna get yourself killed. You can take on grubs, but you ain't gonna step onto an elevator?"

I shrugged indifferently. "Guess so. But, when you're crushed under the weight of this 'elevator' as it's plunging you to your death, I'll still be alive to laugh at you." Before he could stop me, I lunged forward, punching the controls to send the lift down. I hastily stepped back as the floor began to move beneath them. I waved innocently as they descended into darkness, pointedly ignoring the murderous glare Marcus was giving me. I waited until I could no longer hear the clanking of gears churning before pressing my finger to the transmit button.

"Dom," I called. "Can you hear me?"

It was a second before he answered. I flinched as his voice came through, louder than I expected. "Loud and clear," he said. "Keep on your toes."

"Roger that," I replied into the comm. I could still hear Marcus and Dom through the radio. It took me a second to figure out where they were as I started stalking them from above. From my high vantage point, it was hard to pinpoint them in the labyrinth that was Nexus, but they were counting on me to be their eyes. Giving Sam a quick pat on the head, I started off in the direction they were heading, keeping my sniper at the ready.

Darting from shadow to shadow, I kept a wary eye out for any grubs heading our way. Occasionally, we would run into a few patrols, but with my preemptive warnings, avoiding them was a simple matter of telling the boys where to detour off at. It was pretty uneventful until I heard a faint snarling sound beneath me; something that sounded all too familiar…

I froze in place, listening intently to what could have been making the noise. It repeated, louder this time, and I cursed before raising Marcus on the comm-link. "Hey, Marcus? You hear that?"

It was a while before he answered, although I could hear his quiet breathing. "Yeah…" he said quietly. "Better not be what I think it is…"

"Yeah…" I said, half to myself, frantically searching the darkness. "We couldn't get that lucky…

Suddenly, a strangled snarl ripped through the quiet, and I instantly grabbed my lancer in a flash of instinct. "Wretches!" Dom yelled, and the quiet world descended into a fit of gunfire and snarling.

Wretches were a type of locust that traveled in mindless packs and attacked indiscriminately. They were only about three feet tall because they ran on their feet and claws, but that just made them all the harder to kill. Their claws and teeth were razor sharp, and could remove limbs with a single bite. They didn't attack with the efficiency that other locust used; using cover and precise military measures. Instead, they swarmed at you in great numbers, leaving you absolutely screwed if you couldn't spit bullets at them fast enough.

I aimed my lancer over the edge of the balcony and searched for a shot. Marcus and Dom were in my arc of fire, and I couldn't risk nicking them. Friendly fire – really isn't all that friendly. Instead, I searched for an escape route for them to their retreat to. "Marcus!" I yelled into my comm. "To your left! There's another tunnel there; see if you can get there without letting them flank you!"

I heard him grunt an affirmative before sending another spread of fire to the wretches. I ran along the balcony, taking the left I had directed Marcus to.

"Ohh…_shit_!" I gasped, not believing what I had just done. Right around the corner, there had been another patrol that had been drawn in by the gunfire. They were scrambling for position, waiting for the gears to fall right into their trap. "Damnit, don't go down the tunnel! Marcus, Dom, do _not_ go down the tunnel!"

When the grubs started firing at the mouth of the tunnel, I knew my warning was too late. I had just sent Dom and Marcus straight into the fire of thirty-some grubs. Now, they still had wretches behind them, but no retreat option from the grubs in front of them. I hefted my lancer over the side of the balcony, firing at anything in range that moved. I spotted a grub heading for a turret that was right beneath me. "Oh, no you don't!" I shouted, hefting myself up and over the handrail.

My feet had just left the balcony when I realized what a stupid decision I'd made.

I had just jumped off a balcony suspended twenty meters in the air, and was now heading toward the ground at a breakneck speek. Not only was I going to die, I was going to do so while surrounded by a clusterfuck of locust.

Some instinct made me aim for the grub operating the turret. He looked up for a split second – probably wondering what that obnoxious screaming was – before I slammed into his backs. I landed on my knees, not wasting a second as I drew my sidearm. I pressed the barrel to his temple and squeezed the trigger; a spray of blood, brains, and bone hitting me full in the face as the round left his skull. He was dead before the bullet casing left the gun.

I heard snarling and scrapping to my left; the source of the noise coming at me at full speed. Unable to turn because of the locust between my knees, I threw my gun into the air and caught it with my left hand. The wretch was still running towards me as I emptied the gun into its' worthless hide. The wretch's corpse skidded towards me in a rush of blood, stopping about two meters away.

I tucked my empty sidearm into the waistband at the small of my back before sprinting for cover. That scene had been mildly badass, I had to admit, but a middle of a firefight was no time to get cocky. Overestimate yourself one too many times, and you were bound to end up dead. I skidded behind a small stone statue, letting my lancer rest against the top of it as I fired upon any grub in sight. Fortunately for me, they were focusing their fire on Dom and Marcus, not appearing to notice me at all until their buddy next to them dropped dead. I uttered a low curse when the gun ran empty.

I reached into my pack with one hand to grab one of the extra mags Cole had equipped me with before I left Jacinto. While searching in my pack, I blindly felt for the mag release with my other hand. _Mistake_. I accidentally pressed the wrong button, and activated the chainsaw. It bit down into the statue, embedding itself about two inches into the stone, leaving me completely and totally fucked.

"Oh, come _on_!" I growled, yanking on the lancer. It wouldn't come loose, so I braced my boot on the statue beside it and pulled with all of my strength. It came flying out of the self-made hollow, with just a tad more velocity than I expected. Barely keeping my grip on it, it spun me around, finally landing chainsaw-down on the shoulder of a locust attempting to sneak up behind me.

The blade was nestled neatly at the collar of his neck, and it took my instincts a split second to find the 'mag release' and activate the chainsaw. It ripped through the grub's thick skin, and he roared wordlessly in my face, trying to push me away. It had to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but it wasn't getting the job done. I knew I didn't have the height, nor the strength, necessary to cut through the armor, muscle, and bone to efficiently take the grub out like I had seen so many gears do. There was just no physical way for me to cut through the chest cavity. Instead, I let the saw ride through his throat, spraying me with blood as it serrated the jugular. He was batting at me, fighting to get me off. I felt the saw catch once, shredding through his spine, and the grub stopped struggling. The saw finished its' job, cleanly beheading him before gravity took over and dragged him down, making a solid _thunk_ as he hit the ground at my feet.

I stood stock still, covered in blood, taken aback by the brutal intimacy of using the saw, compared to the cruel neutrality of using a sniper. My mind flashed back to a similiar scene; one where the brutal act had been commited to one of my own, by the locust. It looked like the tables had finally turned. _That ones for you, Ace._ A bullet whipped past my left ear, startling me back into the fight. I slipped into cover, fumbling my reload while my eyes kept getting dragged back to the grub's bloody, decapitated head laying a few yards to the left of his body.

_Holy hell, _I thought darkly, thinking back to the beheading. _That almost looked like it was on purpose…_

"Bri!" Dom yelled over the commlink, interrupting my cynical thoughts. "Where the hell are you? We're getting slaughtered out here!"

"On my way," I said to him. I pressed the button Cole had showed me beforehand, hearing a little click. Dom's voice fell silent over the radio, and I figured I must have hit the volume or something. I waited for a lull in the fire before jumping over the rock I was hiding behind. I sprinted to where I had last saw Dom and Marcus, changing course slightly when I saw a COG issued lancer pop up from behind a slab of rock. Dom took aim, so I skidded in behind a rock to cover myself from his fire. He shot to the right, and I waited until he reloaded to fire. That way, there would be a continuous barrage of bullets hitting the grubs where it hurt.

Dom brought his lancer back towards him to reload, ignoring Marcus' steady stream of fire to his left. Dom gave me a look, but before I could get into firing position, his gaze flickered over my shoulder and grew wide. I saw him reach for his comm-link and say something, but I couldn't make it out over the sharp retort of bullets.

I cocked my head to the side, giving him a questioning look. He looked panicked, and he appeared to be frantically mouthing something to me. Finally, when Marcus' magazine ran dry, I could hear his raspy shout.

"_RUN!_"

Just then, I heard a throaty chuckle right behind me say, "Boom!"

I didn't even have time to turn around before my cover exploded into a million shards around me, leaving me exposed and defenseless before a huge, angry Boomer.

My cover blown, I had no choice but to run. Letting instinct take over, I took half a second to look over my shoulder and locate the Boomer. That action probably saved my life. He was closer than I expected, standing right on the opposite side of my cover's remnants.

Boomers were huge beasts, and this one must have been taking steroids. The only saving grace was that they were as stupid as they were big. He was taking a minute to reload his boomshot, not realizing that he probably could have just beaten me to death with the stupid gun and saved himself the rocket. I wasn't about to give him the chance to figure that out, however.

I was moving as soon as his rocket slid home. I swung my boot around in a roundhouse kick as he brought his boomshot up. Grunting with the effort, I kicked his gun away as his thick finger squeezed the trigger, forcing the shot to go wide. I heard the shot crash into something to my right, but didn't dare look. The boomer roared wordlessly, raising his boomshot as if it was a club. Adrenaline overriding common sense, I stayed put, grabbing my sniper and jamming it under his chin. The retort rang in my ears as the bullet exited his huge skull out the top of his head, taking with it a geyser of blood.

For a split-heartbeat, I thought that it hadn't been enough; that the boomer was still alive. His black eyes were still focused on mine, his gun raised high above his head. My breath caught in my throat. It was too late to run, too late to do anything to save myself. I was going to die in some pissing contest with a grub. I screwed my eyes shut, my heart pounding in my ears so loud I was sure the Boomer could hear it. _I'm so sorry, Ace…_

There was a loud, wet _slap_ as something heavy collapsed to the ground in front of me. Braced down as I was, it took me a second to realize that everything had fallen completely and totally silent. The fight was over. I peeked out of one eye and saw the Boomer lying dead at my feet. My knees felt weak, and I almost fell upon them, but managed to stay upright. I let out a relieved breath I hadn't been aware of holding, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away. _I was alive_. At that moment, it seemed that I would never take that fact for granted ever again.

"Bri!" I heard someone shout behind me, then the sound of someone running up on my six. I turned slowly, catching sight of Dom right before he grabbed hold of both my shoulders and did a quick scan to make sure I wasn't bleeding profusely. "Are you okay? Did he get you?"

I actually had to look down to make sure I was all there. "Two arms, ten fingers…I'll check the rest later." It was just fear on the way out, transforming itself into black humor that nobody laughed at. Dom was gripping my shoulders so tight it was almost painful, so I stepped out of his grasp. He sighed deeply through his nose, letting his eyes sink shut.

"If anything had happened to you…I never would have forgiven myself…" he said slowly, allowing his arms to fall back to his sides.

"Yeah…" I said awkwardly, using my sniper as a distraction as I reloaded it and slipped it back over my shoulders. "Where's Marcus?"

He took my question as the distraction it was, and turned to look. We spotted him at the same time; he was over by the far wall of the tunnel, looking up. Apparently, when I had kicked the Boomer's gun as he was firing, the rocket had hit the balcony. Part of it had collapsed, creating a make-shift ramp that Sam was now making her way down. Marcus stood at the bottom of the ramp, watching her descent. She ignored him, choosing instead to trot over to me and give my hand a tiny lick. I smiled slightly, scratching her behind her ears. "Yeah, I'm glad I'm alive too, girl…"

I heard the ground crunch beneath Marcus' boots as he approached our group. "You alive?" he rumbled at me. If Baird had said it, it would have sounded bitchy and cynical. As it was, it sounded like that was the greatest degree to which Marcus would allow himself to show that he actually cared.

"Nothing that a quick change of pants won't fix," I quipped. Now that Dom was assured we were all okay, he appeared eager to get on our way.

He shifted his weight from one heavily armored boot to the next, anxiously scanning the tunnel. "Come on," he said, starting off down the tunnel. "We still have to find Maria."

I fell in beside him, still enjoying the adrenaline high. "What?" I asked him lightly. "You didn't enjoy our friendly little firefight?"

Dom shot me a disbelieving look, kicking the grub's disembodied head from earlier. "If you consider this friendly, I don't _ever_ wanna be on your bad side."

I laughed once at that, rolling my eyes. I glanced back to Marcus to see what he thought, but he seemed even surlier than usual. His eyes were dark, as if Dom's comment had greatly disturbed him…

* * *

We continued on for a while, although time had ceased to mean much. We saw a few more patrols; most we managed to avoid or hide from until they passed. With each step, our search seemed even more and more fruitless; an utter waste of time. The lancer was growing heavy in my hands, and even Sam's prancing steps grew sluggish and labored. Dom never lost faith, however. He somehow found the energy to check each nook and cranny, urging us forward with "Just around this corner," or "She's down this tunnel. I'm sure of it."

Finally Marcus stopped, sighing deeply. "Dom," he called. Dom stopped walking, but didn't turn around.

"We have to keep going," he said, still not looking at either one of us. "She's down here. I can…I can _feel_ it!"

"Dom," Marcus repeated, his voice soft – or, at least as soft as gravel could be. "We've spent enough time down here. We could search for months and not find her. We have to get to Nexus."

Dom hung his head, letting his lancer drop from his shoulder. Finally, he turned around, looking utterly defeated. My heart gave a painful clench when I saw the disappointment and anguish etched onto the lines of his face. When he spoke, his voice was strained and quiet. "I can't just leave her here, Marcus," he pleaded softly. "If…if this is my only chance to find her…" he trailed off, not making eye contact.

I dropped my gaze, deciding he didn't need an audience to his suffering. There was nothing I could say. Marcus was right; this was an utter waste of time. Time we could have been using to find Nexus and plant the beacon for the COG.

"I'm sorry, Dom," Marcus said. We all fell quiet after that. This was the worst part; admitting defeat, surrendering and retreating. Dom shook his head slowly, but it was an empty gesture. He wasn't disagreeing with Marcus, but rather fighting the truth that was staring us right in the face. Maria simply wasn't down here.

It was a minute or two before Dom spoke. "You're right," he said hoarsely, staring at his boots. "We need to find Nexus."

Sam left my side then, nudging Dom's gloved hand with her muzzle. She whined deep in her throat, offering him comfort. He stroked her soft head once, but she ducked out of arm's reach. She barked loudly, looking off in the distance. It was as if she was telling us to not give up, to keep fighting.

"Sam!" I snapped at her, scolding her for being loud. The last thing we needed right now was a troop of grubs bearing down on our position. "Quiet!"

She growled, but it wasn't directed at me. She jumped on Dom's chest, planting her front paws on his chest plates as she whined. Before he could grab her, however, she jumped down and barked again. She stared off in the same direction for a second, before spinning around. She then headed over to me and grabbed hold of my pack with her teeth, tugging me forward.

"The hell's got into her?" Marcus asked, eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly. I shrugged, brushing her teeth off of my pack.

"Sam, no," I said, reaching for her. She pranced out of reach, placing a paw on Dom's thigh and whining.

Dom was the first to figure it out. "She's trying to show us something!" he exclaimed, his face once again lit up with excitement and determination. "What is it? Is it Maria? Go find her! Go get her, girl!"

If dogs could roll their eyes, Sam would have. _Finally,_ she seemed to say, before she gave one last bark, turning and jogging down the tunnel. We all chased after her, watching as she took a sharp left down a smaller tunnel we had somehow missed before. We followed her for about a quarter-mile, my boots sometimes skidding across bits of fallen rock.

There were little tubes of metal lining the sides of the tunnel, but we didn't stop to examine them. There was no telling what they were, and besides, they weren't important right now. Finding Maria _was_. The section of tunnels appeared less patrolled and inhabited. It seemed as if there was one place Maria would be, this was it.

Sam finally came to a stop before a small tower of rock with intricate designs etched onto the side. She scratched at the base, her sharp claws not affecting the strong rock. I didn't understand her movements until we got closer to the tower.

The tower was actually a computer console that had an old and degraded screen installed into the side of the rock. She sniffed the base of it, only moving aside when we reached it.

"Jack," Dom called out, messing with the console. "See if you can find a visual match on Maria."

Dom stepped away from the console. I didn't understand, until I saw the robot Baird had been messing with appear out of thin air. "Whoa…" I said quietly, watching as 'Jack' floated to the computer screen and began plugging in calculations.

"Cloaking device," Marcus said, answering my unasked questions. I nodded mutely, watching the screen flip through various phases as Jack messed with it. Jack floated backwards, giving us a full view. The screen changed pictures quickly, cycling through the different faces of prisoners; all with expressions of terror and sadness imprinted upon them.

Dom took a half step forward, not taking his eyes off the screen. "So many people…" he whispered sadly. I had to look away; the memory of the broken man lying in a puddle of blood whispering through my mind. I knew if I watched the screen, every face that showed would be imprinted upon my mind for all eternity.

"I-I think he found her," Dom said, amazed. I turned around just in time to see the screen change to an ambiguous marking.

Marcus pointed at the screen. "What does that symbol mean?" he asked Dom, as if he had an answer. The symbol looked like a fancy number seven, with what looked like an arrow striking its' way through it.

"Could be where they're keeping her!" Dom said excitedly. "Let's look around."

Drawn in by Dom's excitement, I immediately started scanning the tunnel around me for a replica of the symbol on the screen. At the top of all the metal tubes, there were similar markings, but none exactly alike. I stopped in front of one, examining what looked to be a curved line intersecting a sharp 'V'. "Are these…" I trailed off slowly, too horrified to voice my curiosities.

"They're prisons," Marcus said behind me, examining another row of metal tubes. "Maria will be in one of these."

"My God…" I whispered, backing away. I looked up and down the tunnels. The rows of tubes extended for miles in both ways, holding a countless number of prisoners. I could hear Dom's frantic searching alongside the tunnel, and that was the only thing that snapped my attention away. It was the prisoner camp all over again; there was nothing I could do. At the very least, we could find Maria. "How long have they been taking people like this?" I asked.

"I don't know," Dom answered, and I could hear his frantic search slow a bit, "but we have to keep moving. If Maria's in one of these things, we have to find her quick."

We each took a row of tubes, gradually increasing in speed until we were all almost running down the tunnels. Dom's anxiety was contagious, and I found my need to locate Maria to be _almost _as acute as his. Hundreds of symbols flashed through my mind, and I tried not to imagine the prisoners waiting inside. I knew it had to be so much worse for Dom and Marcus, who had watched the pictures of prisoners flash by on the screen.

"Over here!" Marcus' sharp bark rang out to Dom and me. I froze in place for a second, trying to imagine what would happen when we found her. Dom had been searching for this woman for ten _years._ Whoever she was, she had to be special. I didn't even know what she looked like, which struck me as odd only now. Every time Dom had tried to show me a picture of her, I'd always push it back on him. Although, it didn't matter now. Now, I'd get to meet her in real life.

Dom sprinted over to Marcus, me arriving a split-second behind him. "Jack, open it up!" he called out before he even came to a stop. Jack floated forward; the only one not affected by the note of anxiety in Dom's voice. "I can't believe it, Marcus!" he exclaimed, his voice full of happiness and faith. "We finally found her!"

His face had hope etched onto every crevice, and for a moment, I glimpsed a part of the man he must have been years ago. Dom deserved to have his family back, and I found myself grinning along with him. In that moment, the old man's prophecy of 'processing' and 'mindless slaves' was far from my mind. This was a time of celebrations; of happiness and overcoming destiny.

Sam stuck her head into my hand, and I gave her a vigorous rubdown while Jack worked on opening the prison. "Good girl," I said. If it hadn't been for Sam, we would have abandoned the search hours ago. It really was because of her that we found Maria. _We found Maria!_ I thought again with exuberance. Despite all the odds, all the nay-sayers – and I counted myself among them – we had actually done it.

Finally, I heard the locks tumble inside the heavy metal door. I snapped my head up, watching as Jack backed away. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as we all watched, wide-eyed, waiting for the door to open.

The door slowly swung open, creaking ominously as it inched forward. I quickly glanced at Dom, registering his elated expression. His brown eyes were trained on the door, sparkling with happy bliss. He had to have been dreaming of this moment for years, and it was finally coming true. I guess life and love _did_ go on, even now. Even past the end of the world.

The door banged open against the stone wall of the tunnel, revealing a dark figure waiting inside. A hand reached out, gripping the side wall of the prison. Dom took an unconscious step forward, interrupting my view. When he spoke, his voice was choked and rough, as if he was barely containing tears. His harsh whisper echoed around me, as he said one word. One word was all he needed to express his happiness, and exhilaration, and... and _amazement_ at finally, _finally_, finding his long-lost wife.

"_Maria!"_

**Author's note - *Runs screaming from pack of frantic fans demanding the next chapter* Ahh...I'm going to be killed for ending this chapter here, I just know it. I'm really sorry guys, but this had to end sometime! It felt like it was going on forever!**

**Again, I'm sorry for such a long wait since I last updated, but...well...life happens. *shrugs* That, and this is The LONGEST chapter I have EVER written for ANYTHING! :D Don't I deserve some kind of reward? You know, maybe a medal, or trophy, or a cookie? *Readers glare at me* Okay, fine...no cookie...**

**Huge, huge, HUGE thanks go out to rockforthecross74 for betaing this monster of a chapter! That chick is seriously underpaid and overworked for this gig, so head over to her profile and give her stories some loving!**

**Also (and yes, this authors note is almost as long as the chapter...) if you're in the mood for some more Gear loving, head on over to my profile and check out my Christmas special, 'The Last Christmas'. It's a bit of utter fluff about the very last Christmas Dominic Santiago spends with his family before E-day. Guest stars include Marcus Fenix and the Cole Train! :D**

**Again, I'm really sorry for ending it here (okay...maybe not! :D) but hopefully the next chapter will be out soon! And remember, if you kill me over this horrid cliffhanger, I can't write the next chapter from the grave! *Brandishes frying pan protectively***


	13. The Secret Within

Somewhere Just Outside Nexus

Present Day

_Do you know what it's like to lose everything? Everything you've ever loved? Everything you've ever known? Do you know what it's like to lose _**everything**_? I hope you never find out. Life's been hell since E-Day. But…do you know what it's like to get back everything you thought you lost? Everything you lived for? Everything you love?__  
__I hope one day I find out."_

_— Dominic Santiago's thoughts on the loss of his own family while rescuing another._

Hope was evil. It seduced you, and then dumped you on your ass so hard and so fast you were worse off than when you began.

The first thing I noticed was the _smell. _The stench of rotting flesh and human filth emanated from the cell, turning my stomach. The odor quickly distributed through the stout tunnel, deflecting off the wintry stone of the tunnels and assaulting us twice as strongly. She had to have been locked away for days, if not weeks, for that to happen. Left to die in her own filth, like a caged animal. I wanted to turn away from the reeking cell before I vomited, but I forced my feet to lie still against the icy rocks. This woman had endured the unendurable. To turn away from her as if she were trash would be colder than I could bring myself to be. Right now, she deserved help and understanding - not being shunned by those of her own kind; of her own blood, unlike the locust bastards.

A ghastly figure fell ungracefully from the cell, collapsing into Dom's arms in a crumpled heap. The torn and tortured flesh dripped off her emaciated figure in blackened and tormented strips; evidence of long-term abuse at the hands of the locust. She was balding, her short malnourished scraps of sheared hair falling into her face and hiding the features that lay behind the curtain.

The only one not affected by the smell was Dom. He held her close to him, tight against his armored chest. "_Maria_…" he whispered again, his voice raspy and hoarse with unshed tears. "God, I love you…"

"Dom…" Marcus breathed, his voice low with disbelief. I turned to see those mad-dog eyes entrapped upon the dark figure's face, running again and again over the scars wrenched upon her face and body. The scattered strips of fabric barely clung to her skeletal form, revealing more tortured and tormented flesh beneath. The red and angry edges of wounds were left open and untreated, most still leaking black blood in the dim light of the tunnel. The old man's words echoed ominously in the frozen corners of my mind as my eyes latched upon the inflamed and swollen skin of her back and arms. _They string you up through giant hooks in your back; whip you with metal chains with spikes. Some are dipped into vats of burning imulsion, held there until their flesh melts off their bones…_

I could hear the agonized, soft moans of pain that shuddered their way from her throat. It was a lonesome, keening sound that tore at the soul and ripped at the heart. The sorrowful cries barely made a sound; just echoing, breathy whimpers that spoke volumes of the pained and broken spirit held caged within the shattered, lonely prison that was her body. Dom turned at Marcus' voice, wondering what could have been so damned important to interrupt their reunion. Dom's brown eyes reflected the shallow light for just a second, not focusing upon anything before he turned back to the dark figure in his arms.

It was then I realized that something was very, _very_, wrong.

He wrenches back from her, as if he doesn't recognize the broken body within his arms. The expression on his face shifts instantaneously from one of blessed content, to one of abject horror. She almost falls away from him without his strong arms underneath her, supporting her, but he catches her at the last second and holds her gingerly before him. His eyes are finally opened to the truth, to the scarred and broken woman that had been his object of fixation for ten long, _long,_ years. He takes in the ripped flesh that now adorns her once-perfect skin, the wounds and lesions that attest to excruciatingly painful torture sessions for the sadistic pleasure of the locust. "Oh…_no…_no!" he moans quietly. "No…no, no, no, baby…no, no, no, _no!_"

Her head falls back limply upon her weakened neck, as if she lacks enough strength to hold it upright. Dom pulls her back to him yet again, fighting to keep her with him, to bring her back _to_ him. "What did they do to you?" He makes a horrible, agonized sob of absolute anguish; pain lined into every aspect of his face. Sorrow contorts his features, taking away every trace of happiness and hope and _faith_ that had been ever-present in his demeanor since the moment I'd met him. His eyes, once chocolate brown, have been transformed to flat ebony. They are wide with disbelief, unable to look away from the nightmare placed before him.

"I'm so sorry!" he chokes out, his voice rough with agony and sobs. Silver tears track their way down his face; he doesn't even notice. He rocks on his knees, unable to hold still against the unending waves of pain. Maria rocks with him, pulled by the arms still supporting her bony frame. Her milky, blind eyes are restless, flickering back and forth, settling upon nothing. She is unaware that her husband, her beloved, is only inches away. It matters not; he is too late. She is too far gone, too far in the grips of torture-fed insanity, her mind as scarred as the twisted and bleeding flesh of her broken body.

And there - under her left eye - is a little, innocuous, crescent-shaped scar.

_They cut you,_ the old man's voice whispers again, echoing coldly around our silent group. The tunnel is silent; the frozen stones holding their breath as the world came crashing down around us. _They've got a machine. It cuts into your brain. Erases your memories, your personality, makes you a mindless slave to the locust. And there's not a thing you can do to prevent it._

_There's not a way in the world to reverse it._

The world froze around us, all time coming to a complete and total stop. Nothing existed outside this moment, this place. Nothing mattered anymore accept the dying woman Dom held in his arms. He sobbed softly for the way it was before; for the woman from his memory. She was lost to him now, alone and beyond the reach of us mere mortals.

"Ah, God…_Maria!"_ he pleaded yet again, his voice echoing his lost and wounded heart. She continued her lonely moaning, the soft breaths of pain slipping from her scarred and tortured throat. She wasn't aware of them - wasn't aware of anything - as she was still imprisoned in her own personal hell of abject horror and agony.

Inside me, the very fabric of the universe was shredding at the seams. Everything I knew about the world - knew about _myself - _was being torn from me with each aching breath my body forced my lungs to take. It didn't matter that I was still breathing, my heart still beating…not when the bedrock of my existence was shattered beyond repair. My knees quaked and gave out. I fell upon them, not even realizing or recognizing the sharp sting of pain that shot up through nerve endings, through neurotransmitters and minute fibers that made up my existence. None of it mattered anymore. It was just simple biology; simple mechanics that kept the human body alive, even when the soul had been ripped from it...even when you were desperate for the sweet release that came only with the eternal darkness.

I reached slowly into the cloth pocket of my pack. Numb fingers twisted around cold metal, coiling around a thin, delicate chain. I slowly pulled it out, draping the small, child-sized locket around my scarred and calloused hands. It had been a gift so long ago, yet now if felt like only yesterday. I mentally scraped away the effect time had wreaked upon it; the oxidation and rust of the cheap metal, the weathering effect upon the picture…and eagerly devoured the beautiful face printed upon the picture. She was the most beautiful woman in the world; she was my mother. I compared the small picture of the smiling woman to the emaciated skeleton sitting in front of me. I had recognized her immediately; needing only a glance at the small picture in the locket I carried to make sure the impossible was happening.

The woman before me…the woman in the picture… they were one and the same.

My eyes hungrily searched out this lost woman's features; scanned her face for any hints, any signs of recognition at all. I searched for her, past the brittle and torn flesh, past the agony permanently etched upon her, past this misplaced heart that had broken so many lives – past and present. Against all odds, we had found her. We had found her, and yet we would never have her. We could see her, but not touch. We could hear, but not speak. We could love, but not be loved in return.

We could be found, but be forever lost.

"Goddamnit, its Dominic!" he entreated her again, but to no avail. His pleading cries fell upon deaf ears, straining to reach a plane of the galaxy that did not exist to us - not yet. She was a thousand miles away from us, a broken chaos leaving behind only scattered splinters of the woman she once was. This sad truth ripped at me from within, tearing me into two separate pieces. It was too much for me; too much for one body, one mind, one heart. It was breaking me, as sure as I had been broken before. It was unbearable; this dividing of self that wrenched me apart. I tried to scream, but found I had no breath to do so. Tried to cry, but tears were unreachable. Tried to run, but could not find the strength.

I tried to fall, but there was nothing there to catch me. I was completely alone; just vapor in this frozen world. I never _was_, never would be. My life was a lie, my existence a fraud. I had stolen this life so long ago, and everything came rushing back in painful clarity.

I had been so young... could I plead ignorance? Too young to die, to be snuffed out along with so many others…and yet I had been selfish. I alone had survived, and I had chosen to murder myself. Suppressed by childish fear of death, I had allowed myself to fade away, to allow another to take my place. By running from death, I had succumbed to it.

I had chosen Life.

I had chosen Bri.

Dom's shuddering gasp interrupted me, dragging me back from the brink. I couldn't look, couldn't see… yet I saw his pain, heard his agony. What was the point in perceiving, when I could not speak, could not change this painful exchange of torturous agony? My life had changed nothing - my being was meaningless - as I could not stop this one moment of time, could not roll back continuation. "It's me!" he pleaded with the corpse in front of him again. "It's Dominic!"

It's… "_Mom_…" I gasped through the diaphanous barrier that lay between me and the rest of the world. It was liberating, to speak to – through – the world again. I had been awakened, brought back to consciousness from the cataclysmic event occurring before me. I had been Returned, yet I had never left. Just…gone for a while. As my mother had been gone, but now she was Returned to me, and all was it should be. It was as if nothing had ever happened; no endless stretch of time had passed since the last time we saw each other. Our time as a family had been brief - only a short four years - but the strength of a mother's love could not fade, could not been doused by the ocean of time.

Suddenly, I was four-years-old again, such a child – young and innocent, and untouched by the evils of life. My mother was with me again, erasing all the bad in the world, if only for this one moment. I wanted to go to her, to be held safe and sound in her arms as I had done so many years ago – like I had done only _minutes_ ago. Time did not matter. Not anymore. Not as Sylvia.

A fraction of my scattered mind, untouched by something as trivial as names or titles, still analyzed the situation without bias. Who still saw the scarred and battered flesh. Who still watched as Dom wept for his beloved, who slipped farther away from him, even as he clutched her to his chest. Who knew that no matter what, Maria wasn't going to walk away from this.

Who realized, that if Maria was Dom's wife, and Maria was my mother, than I must be Dom's daug-

We wouldn't– couldn't – follow that thought to completion.

We heard Marcus stir from somewhere to the left. Marcus – another someone from our past. He stood behind Dom; a quiet, insurmountable force. He left himself there as simple reassurance and comfort. He rested a gloved hand upon Dom's shoulder– we traced the movement with our eyes – and we saw Dom whip around, looking for someone to make it alright.

Just like a child, he needed someone to keep away the demons at night. To keep the nightmares at bay. Bri had been that someone for me, as I had lost my protection from the dark side of the night when my family perished before my eyes. "Marcus!" Dom pleaded, voice wild with pain and worry. "I-I don't know what to do, man! I don't know what to do! She-" he couldn't complete his frantic cries, couldn't focus enough to force the meaningless words out. Nothing that was said was going to change anything, so what was the point?

"Dom," Marcus said softly. We saw his hand tighten upon Dom's shoulder, trying to convey strength. The act was strange to us. Why attempt reassurance when everything was fine? I was with my parents at long last – nothing could ever change that now. In fact, this was the most _fine _I had felt for years, for an eternity. I was alive, my parents were alive. A huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, giving me a lightness that I had not experienced before. I was not responsible for their death after all.

Marcus said something else to Dom, but it was lost to us. It mattered not – words were weak and useless things, unable to convey so much, unable to change a thing. Words did nothing to change the set order of things, nor to reverse what was set in order. Reassuring smiles, a pat on the head, a warm embrace…these were the things that mattered. For years we had accepted the fact that our mother, father, and brother were dead. For years we pretended that it didn't hurt, but it did. Just as Maria had scars imprinted upon her body, I had scars imprinted upon my mind. I was just as broken, just as tormented by time. People were not meant to be alone, to be abandoned by the ones they loved. Life had been hell since E-day. Drowning in the misery of being Bane's personal servant, forced to be self-sufficient at an infantile age, I had retreated to the recesses of my own mind. Bri had been a way to hide, to separate myself from the world. Everything I could not handle; the pain, the fear, the all-consuming _anger…_ Bri had handled it for me. Without her, I could not be whole, but with her, I was broken.

I wanted to go to Maria, to be held by her, but Bri held my feet still. Bri examined the situation analytically, rationally. Her eyes whispered over the pair before us, took in the situation, analyzed it, and came up with a game plan to be executed. She was emotionless, a scientist simply observing. I died before her, as she would not release me. I was wanting, desiring, _yearning_ to be with them…but she denied me. It was not callous, but necessary. After all, people were not intentionally harmful to lab rats. Only she could understand, _comprehend_, what was happening and where this would go. Where this had to end.

I strained to be free from her, but I could not completely let go. She was forever a part of me, like it or not. Still, I was distracted, overcome with my need to be held. My body craved it, required it. Acute need demanded it. "I am so sorry, Maria," I heard Dom whisper, and my head tilted to the side, uncomprehending. What was there to be sorry for? We were together again; all was well. A smile twitched my lips as I fought Bri for control. I was Sylvia now; an innocent child caught in a woman's body, who never had the chance to be whole. Young in age and experience, I let my guard down. Nothing could hurt me now, not here.

Bri screamed for me to turn and run, to flee this place before she could be lost forever. I refused her orders, finally strong enough to stand on my own. I relinquished a hand from her iron grip, reaching towards them. My lips moved again, forming the word, "_Mommy_…" Every movement was sluggish, labored. I crawled forward on my knees, feeling the skin scrape against the cold, inflexible rocks. I tried to call out again, but I could not. My world was silenced before me as I sat there, a curious audience.

Dom pressed his head against her forehead, drenching her face with his tears. "I love you…so much," he said to her, the desperation gone from his voice. Bri rattled against me, screaming for me to turn around, to flee before I could be hurt yet again. For once, I ignored her advice, so captivated was I by the sight of my family. I could not see enough, devour enough of their faces. I didn't see the torn and ripped flesh upon her face, nor her sheared and deadened hair. I tore my gaze from the little trinket in my palm, and back up to my parents. I grinned, getting to my feet, preparing to greet them for the first time in fifteen years.

I didn't see the gun come up, but Bri did.

Everything froze into place. The bullet casing left the gun in slow motion, as if it would take a million years to reach the ground. The open prison door was sprayed red with blood, drop by drop. The gun hit the ground, escaping from a limp hand. A murderous hand. Her cooling body slipped from his arms, making a wet slap as she hit the stone floor. Her final resting place. How convenient that we were already underground. My heartbeat pounded in my chest, in my ears, in my mind. _Ka-thump._ The only sound I could hear, representing so much. _Ka-thump._ Maria's motionless body, covered with fresh blood and brain matter. _Ka-thump._ Dom's rocking form, sobbing silent tears. A contrite murderer. _Ka-thump._ I didn't hear the gunshot, which a corner of my mind found darkly amusing. A silent, quick death. Could any of us really ask for more?

A soft, keening sound. A bleating refrain of agony. A ripping scream strangled into silence. It took me a moment – a week, a year, a lifetime – to realize all of these sounds came from me. From the serrated and separate pieces of my soul.

Just the sound of my heart, breaking once more.

Dom bends over her motionless form, retrieving something from around her neck. A trophy, a memorial, a fucking _medal_….I didn't care. I tried to scramble to my feet, but my legs felt weak, limp. Like they were attached by frayed thread. _Ka-thump._ She was gone. _She was gone._ I had found her, and lost her, and killed her all in a matter of seconds. _Ka-thump_. The inevitable strikes again. To be loved by me was the kiss of death.

I had to get away, _far_ away from this place before I killed anyone else. _Ka-thump._ By sheer force of will, a foot moved, braced against the ground. It pushed, and another foot caught the shifting weight before I fell. _Ka-thump. _I was a flaccid corpse rising from the ashes. A new body rising out of the earth. A murderer taking a life in order to live. A woman named Bri.

"No…no…no…no," I could hear someone bleating in an agonized refrain. It took me a second to realize it was me. It was quiet, just a breathless whisper of the damned, but it was enough to capture Marcus' attention. I didn't – couldn't – see him until he was literally right in from of me, standing before me, shaking me slightly. His wide palms were pressed unfeelingly on my shoulders. I could feel the pressure - hard enough to bruise - but not the pain. Everything paled against the gaping hole within my chest. He pulled me away from the nightmare, bodily turning me away from my mother until I had no choice but to meet his glacier-blue eyes.

His mouth was moving in a familiar pattern, saying something that I could not understand. It took every ounce of my being to focus enough to figure out what he was saying. Even then, I could only comprehend one word. "…_Sylvia_…"

Just then, a realization hit me with the force of a ton of bricks. He had known. He fucking _knew._ Suddenly, everything made sense. His shocked expression when we first met outside the abandoned research facility, New Hope. His leading questions about my family and heritage. The silent moments that I'd caught him staring at me. He had put it all together, recognizing me the moment we had ran into each other. He had known, and yet he remained silent. The absolute betrayal struck me hard, as if he had physically thrown a punch that landed heavily upon the broken shards of my heart.

"You…you _knew_…" I tried to scream it at him, but the words caught around the lump in my throat and came out as a strangled whisper. His face set into even deeper lines of granite, and he didn't answer. He kept his glacier-blue eyes upon mine as he bodily moved me backwards, using his grip on my shoulders to maneuver me. A part of me wanted to jerk away from him, unable to handle his bracing touch. But I was still struck dumb by the betrayal – the _hurt_ – of Marcus not telling me what I should have known. Blindly, I had allowed myself to trust in him, allowed myself to believe that these…these _men_ actually cared about me. "_Why?"_ I rasped out, eyes wide and brimming with more unshed tears. _"Why?"_

I didn't know what I wanted him to say; didn't know what I was so desperate to hear. Even if Marcus understood – knew what to say to ease my agony – he remained silent. I think _that_ was what hurt the most. He still tried to push me away from my mother's corpse and her murderer, but I yanked myself away. I couldn't force myself to look back down the tunnel, where the fresh crime scene lay. I had to get away, had to leave this place before I exploded. "Sylvia, please, just listen-" he said to me, reaching for me. I punched him in the face – mostly out of desperation - and he backed away, looking shocked. That made two of us.

"No," I said to him, and I managed to ignore how my voice trembled, on the edge of breaking. The locket – _my_ locket, the one I had held tight to for years – slipped through my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. I had found my family, my parents, only to lose one to death and one to betrayal in a matter of minutes.

"You _monster!_" I gasped out, unable to break past the stifling silence of the tunnel. I had to struggle for every sound I made; force it out around a throat that felt like it was cinched closed. He reached for me one more time, but I fought him. I shoved against his chest, kicking out at him at the same time. The ferocity of my struggle surprised him. He lost his hold on me, and I half fell into a crouch on the uneven stone beneath me.

I sprang up from the crouch and _ran_.

"Bri?" I heard Dom – my mother's murderer – call out, sounding shocked and confused. His voice grated upon me, sending shivers down my arms. I could still hear the tears in his rough voice, and the innocence with which he spoke disgusted me. As if he could still pretend he didn't know – as if he was clueless to my being his.

"Let her go," I could barely hear Marcus now, their voices fading with every frantic stretch of my legs beneath me. I had to get away – far away. It sounded like they were struggling now, wrestling.

Of course they were fighting. They were COG. Violence was pleasure to them.

I sprinted back through the same tunnel Sam had led us down. This was the second time I had raced down the corridor – the last time in joy, this time in anguish. It was hard to remember how I had felt only minutes ago when we had found her; everything was dark and gruesome now, tainted by knowing how I had aided and abetted the pair of murderers. The very stones seemed evil. The darkness was cloying without the dim light from the gear's armor. Could I really have celebrated with them, enjoyed being with them only so short a time ago? Believed the smiles on their faces, not seeing the beasts underneath…

I ran to the farthest end of the tunnel, into the deep blackness. Over the sound of my breathing, I could hear soft panting beside me, a pair of footfalls echoing besides my own. I almost stumbled to a stop, my boots slipping over some loose rocks, before I realized it was Sam. Ever faithful, ever present Sam. I was undeserving of her loyalty, more now than ever before. Still, it was almost comforting to have her beside me.

I ran farther and farther into the night, becoming increasingly disoriented amidst the endless acres of prisons and tunnels. I was getting completely and totally lost – the better not to be found. I ran forward until I stumbled ankle-deep into the oily waters of an underground stream. I backed away, my hand outstretched, searching for a wall. My searching fingers found a rough ridge of stone, sharp-edged beneath my palms – I turned into the depression behind the protrusion and curled myself into a tight ball on the ground. Tears slipped from my eyes and ran down my cold face like blood dripping down iron.

Sam came up to me, trying to lick my damp face. "Get away from me!" I roared at her, shoving her back. She skittered backwards, unharmed but very surprised. I couldn't handle her offer of comfort. It was easy to get rid of her, as easy as it should have been from the very beginning.

It was only me now. Me and the knowledge that would not leave me, not ever. Just me, and the pain and the horror that I would never escape. I would never _not_ have that image in my head again. I would never be free of it. It was forever a part of me.

I wrapped my arms tightly around my shoulders and mourned. My mother. My family. I wanted to cry, to keen in misery, but I was Bri now. I locked my lips and hunched in the darkness, holding the pain inside. I slipped quickly and easily behind my façade, hiding behind the animosity of being Bri. This way, I could pretend it wasn't real, that it wasn't actually happening. It was the same protective measures I had used so long ago, when I had watched my brother and best friend cruelly murdered before my eyes. I separated myself from the pain, allowing 'Bri' to handle everything I could not.

I could just imagine how humorous they all found the situation. This cute little Stranded girl, eagerly tagging along beside them, managing to delude herself into thinking that she was a part of their team. I could see them wondering how long it would take me to figure out that I was just a waste of time, just a plaything to be used and tossed aside. What had Cole called me, so long ago, when I was enjoying breakfast with these monsters? A mascot – that was all I'd ever been to them. This betrayal just stacked upon the others, physically weighing me down so that I pressed tightly against the sharp rock at my back.

But…how long had I deluded myself into believing my family was dead; stubbornly and resolutely refusing to entertain any thought of them being alive somewhere, living life without me? And before today, I hadn't had any family. And now I didn't, again. I might as well have just pulled the trigger myself.

But…I _hadn't_. That blame rested solely upon _his_ shoulders. He didn't even try, didn't save her. Why wasn't he here earlier? Why did he let the grubs have her? If he claimed to love her so much, why did he allow her to die in his arms?

What was it Bane had said to me minutes before he died? A life for a life. I'd used his twisted philosophy to settle so much in my life; even when I had just began following Delta, trying to decide if saving Baird's life meant I was worthy to try and save my own. The evidence of my indulgence - the sharp, tender stitches - still rested within the flesh of my stomach. A life for a life: the universal truth that kept the world within balance.

One death equaled another.

A life for a life.

The debt _must_ be repaid.

I had no idea how long I sat there in the darkness, curled into myself. Once this evident truth rose to consciousness, I stirred. I felt blindly for the filthy COG lancer that I had dropped when I had hit the water. My fingers traced the sharp teeth of the chainsaw so it cut into the cold skin of my fingers. How fitting that their beloved weapon would be the one to kill them.

I rose slowly, a plan forming within the scarred corners of my mind. Their little side quest completed, they would continue on to Nexus. They would regroup with Cole and Baird, completing their little treacherous group.

I had cried enough useless tears. Now…now was the time for _vengeance_.

So many gears would die within the locust capital city, what was four more? In truth, there was only one life I wanted to take - that of my father.

I heard canine toenails scrape against the stone ground, and instinctively clicked my fingers for Sam. She gave my fingers an apology lick, and I stroked her soft fur. I silently apologized for pushing her away, and she accepted it without hesitation.

The absolute, undying love of an animal. So much better than a human. I would need her help as I tracked Delta to Nexus for this last battle. So much would finally come to an end there.

I blindly started forward, reassured by Sam's warm presence pressed against my leg. As I headed back down the black tunnel that led towards Nexus, there were two things in the world that I was absolutely sure about.

Dominic Santiago was my father.

And he would _pay_ for murdering my mother.

* * *

**Author's Note – Finally, the truth is revealed. What did you think? Was it what you expected? More? Not even close? I wanna know what you guys think. What do you think Bri will do when she sees Dom and Marcus in Nexus? Will she make good on her threat?**

**Huge thanks go out to rockforthecross74 for betaing this! My writing could not be what it is without her excellent input, and she really is a godsend. This story would never be here without her, so make sure to head to her page and give her some love! She deserves it, and so much more! :D**

**So, this chapter is especially important to me for a couple reasons. First off, A Father's Love celebrated its one year anniversary! :D I have a long history of beginning projects, and then never finishing them. I think that this shows that (hopefully) it's starting to change. Would you believe that when I first began this story, I was thinking it would be a quick little seven-chapter fic and I would be done? Now, thirteen chapters later, I have so much more I want to do with this, and even have a sequel in the works! **

**Once again, I want to thank all of my readers and reviewers. You guys are the ones who give me the inspiration to wake up at three in the morning and finish an important chapter. I'm so thankful for all of you sticking with me up until this point, and I hope you weren't disappointed with the Big Reveal chapter. I know sometimes it felt like we'd never get there, but it looks like we've made it! (Look how far we've come, my baby!)**

**Okay, before this dissolves into an eighty's power ballad, I should probably wrap this up. A huge heart felt thank you again to all of you reading (and reviewing? :D) this. You have no idea how much it means to me! :D Stay tuned for more crazy adventures with Bri, and to see if she and Dom develop a father-daughter relationship. **

**Leave a review, telegram, smoke signals, message in a bottle, or one of those creepy-psycho notes with the letters cut out from magazines telling me what you think! You'll get a preview of the next chapter, and my absolute undying thanks! :D**


	14. A Dish Served Cold

**_Author's Note: Just to parry off any confusion, the first bit of this (up until the page-break) is all in the infamous Damon Baird's point-of-view. Also,for the sake of not being creepy, I'll be changing his backstory - a LOT. (It would be weird if Bri was involved with someone her father's age.) Enjoy! :D_**

* * *

Just Outside Mount Kadar

Present Time

_"When we are fully cleansed, and the truth comes forth, will we **listen**?"_

_-A Recording of 'Niles' from New Hope Research Facility._

Life...is all about ass.

Don't believe me? Think about it; you're either kicking it, kissing it, laughing it off, busting it, or trying to get a piece of it. Currently, I was busting mine, trying to get these friggin' Stranded bums out of the locust tunnels. I don't know why we bothered; anyone that stupid deserves to die. Natural selection, and all that.

Oh, don't you give me that look! Yeah, _you_. You don't know what it's been like since E-day. Humanity's been reduced to the size of a small city, and that's _before_ you throw out the ones who should be drowned in the gene pool. Now, we finally get a chance to stick it to the grubs, and I get stuck on _baby-sitting _duty. This _never_ would have happened if I'd had my own squad by now. But do they promote the genius? No, they promote the asshole who tosses me out with the trash, so excuse me if I'm not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today.

What? Yeah, that's right, _genius_. Does it make you squirm 'cause I say it? I'm probably the smartest man left in with all these morons who drag their knuckles and grunt a lot. I stick with Delta 'cause they all have IQ's in the triple digits, and they haven't shot me in the ass - _yet_. Normally I'm nothing but flypaper for morons, but we've always managed to pull our asses out of the fire just in time. There's something to say about that, especially when so many weren't so lucky.

A solid hand slaps me on the back, and I know I'll be spending tonight fixing the dent in my armor. That's Cole, formally known as the 'Cole Train'. He's pretty much always in a good mood, which is friggin' weird for such a smart guy. He knows how deep we are in the shit, but he never lets it bother him. "Damon," he says with that irritating, ever-present grin of his. "You ain't pretty enough to sit around doing nothin', help me move some of this luggage."

Cole's not fooling me; he could probably pick up the damn Centaur and move it single-handily. He wants me to _interact_, to see for myself that these Stranded pukes ain't all bad.

Bull.

Bri had told us to take them back to that rundown camp she'd brought us to, and that's what we did. Some of the 'guards' down the mountain path seemed pretty confused as to why we were booking it already, but I didn't bother to stop for each one like Marcus did. He was the touchy-feely type, not me. I only answered to those who ranked above me, and only if I thought they actually deserved it. Those who brown-nosed their way to the top weren't fit to lick the mud off an enlisted man's boot.

Cole took a large suitcase off the top of the stash and passed it down. He watched me toss two ratty boxes into the dirt before speaking. "Baby, what's going on with you and lil' sis?"

My shoulders stiffened immediately, instinctively. I stepped away from the tank, shoving a handbag at some lady with maybe a bit too much force. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Cole shrugged as we started towards the slum's gates. "Nothing. Just noticed how you watch her sometimes."

"Oh? Enlighten me. How do I watch her?"

Cole waved to some straggly-assed Stranded hanging on the gate. "Like you'd kill anyone who tried to touch her, but like you don't think you're worthy to have her for yourself."

I snorted. Then, for good measure, I snorted again. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"It's all in your head."

"Whatever you say," Cole said easily, pissing me off even more.

I didn't want Bri. Hell, she'd probably deck me again if I tried anything. Okay, so yeah, she was hot, and I'd noticed that she had really nice legs and ass, but who wouldn't notice that? I _am_ a dude, after all. You'd appreciate some double 'X' chromosomes too, if all you had to stare at all day was Dom's hairy ass. She was also short, which made me feel kinda protective of her, but that just explained why women shouldn't be gears. Guys should be focused on their own shit when it hit the fan. If they were all focused on helping Cinderella into her glass slippers, things where bound to start slipping.

I snorted once again. Bri…wasn't exactly the Cinderella type, however.

"She doesn't scald my eyes, if that's what you're getting at."

"There's that, too," Cole said, passing off another ripped and torn suitcase that should have been used for kindling about a decade back. He shot me a wink, "It wouldn't kill you to pretty yourself up if you're going to be in my presence."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that."

He slapped me on the back, chuckling slightly. "I'm just playin' with you, baby!" Then he got serious, shooting me a look that I had learned well. It meant that the 'Cole Train' was taking a break, and this was all Augustus Cole, straight from the heart. "Just watch your step. You hurt her, and you'll have a hell of a lot more than just trouble coming your way. You know Dom's practically adopted her already, and you know how protective he is over his lost pups."

"So let me get this straight. I'm good enough to be your friend, but not date Bri?"

"Exactly. Glad we're on the same page."

This was the part where I chimed in with some pointless cynical comment, but I couldn't get my jaw to unclench.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving him off. He was probably right about Dom, but I wasn't going to piss myself at everything Dom got his pants in a twist over.

It wasn't like Dom had some kind of claim on Bri, anyway.

Cole chuckled, and then started jogging towards the Stranded camp. _Ah, hell_. I'd been hoping to get out of here with as little Stranded–to-asshole interaction as possible, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. Cole would want to inform the little pukes that they had a COG armada coming to knock down their doors. _Ungrateful_ _bastards_.

"Am I the only one that can feel crosshairs just…about…here?" I muttered to Cole as we jogged up to the gates. He shook his head at me, but didn't say anything. Some old woman met us at the gate, giving a warm – but slightly worried – smile to Cole.

"Hello again, Cole," she said. "Is something wrong? Where's Bri?"

"Bri's with the others," he answered her. "Perfectly safe. But…there has been a bit of an issue." Her eyes darkened as she waited for him to continue. "Ya' see, we found Nexus, but we need some more muscle to take it down. We need to ship in more troops, and the easiest way to do that is through this neat little camp y'all got here. Now, I know ya' got a little sensitive last time, but-"

"Absolutely not," someone said from behind us. That guy – Dix or whatever – gave a tight-lipped snarl that made me feel like punching his teeth down his throat. What the hell had Bri ever seen in hanging with people like this?

"Oh yeah?" I snarled at him, taking a threatening step forward. "I'd like to see you punks try and stop us-"

Cole held his hands out between us in a placating gesture. "Whoa, there. I'm sure we can come up with something that makes everyone happy-"

"Bull!" Dix interrupted, nostrils flaring with anger. "The deal we made to let y'all come through here was so that I wouldn't have to see anymore of you assholes on my turf."

I jabbed a finger his way, incredulous that someone could have their head shoved so far up their ass. "Either we move our guys in and take out Nexus, or we let the grubs have their way with you, and _then_ we move in and take Nexus. Your choice."

'Dicks' opened his mouth to say something, but the little old lady shot him a look strong enough to bend steel. "Listen to them, Dix. This is bigger than your ego and whatever vendetta you've got against the COG. I know what they did to you, but this is more important than the past."

Dix gave her a murderous look, but his unspoken threat was empty. His shoulders slumped the tiniest bit, but his snarl didn't waver a bit in his intensity. "If you COG assholes hurt anyone, touch anyone, so much as_ move_ a _hair _on someone's _head_…" his threat hung unfinished in the air.

I rolled my neck, making the action look as impertinent as possible. Yeah, cause this little shit was gonna make us quake in our boots. "Granny's right about one thing-" I started saying.

"You may call me Momma," she said in a tone that let me know she would not tolerate being called anything else.

"Yeah," I drawled uncertainly for a second. Cole caught on pretty quick, and jumped right in.

"Baby, we ain't the boogie-man. Our job's to kill grubs, and then kill more grubs, 'til all the mother-fuckers are outta here." Cole's undeniable charm relaxed Dix's cold façade a tiny bit. "Now, look," Cole continued, "Alls we gonna do is drive our vehicles in one way and out the other. We go up the mountain, and you never have to see Blondie's ugly mug again."

"Hey!" I snapped, narrowing my eyes. Who was he calling ugly?

Dix shook his head and spat in the dirt. He stared down, thinking, before looking back up at Cole. "One hour," he said. "I'll give you _one hour_ to get all of your forces through the camp. After that, I never wanna see you assholes again."

Cole guessed correctly that I was about to rip him a new one, so he grabbed the back of my neckplate and started talking over me as he herded me away. "Will do," he said hastily, giving me a heavy shove back towards the Centaur.

"_One hour,"_ I repeated under my breath. "Just who does he think he is? We've been fighting this war for _fifteen_ _years_ so he wouldn't have to, and he gives us one _hour_."

Cole just shrugged easily. "Shouldn't take that long. Once Dom and Marcus plant the beacon, the real time-waster is gonna be drilling down to the middle of their city." He fumbled for a sec with his comm. "Yo Marcus, man, you there?"

I pressed my comm closer to my ear so I could hear the conversation better. There was a long pause before Marcus answered, which wasn't like him at all. Usually, he answered right away, even if it was to tell us to shut the hell up. "Yeah, Cole," he answered, sounding gruff and worn out. Well, _more_ gruff and worn out than usual. "Status update."

"We've secured transport through the Stranded Camp for our guys." Cole pointedly looked away as I mimed putting a gun to my head and pulling the trigger, showing what I thought of our task to 'secure transport'. "Command knows where we're at, we just gotta wait for them to show. What about you? Found the capital yet?"

"Yeah," Marcus answered, "And a few other things."

Cole looked like he was about to ask what Marcus meant by that, but Marcus talked over him. "Nexus is sitting on a lake of imulsion. We don't plan this right, and we could end up blowing us _and_ the grubs to bits."

Imulsion was the highly flammable, raw fuel that we found underground and drilled for. If you didn't refine it right, it could end up taking more than a few of your fingers off.

"I'll spread the word, baby," Cole said. "Y'all all right? Bri, you enjoying your new toy?" Cole mentioned the lancer he'd given her with a smile. I rolled my eyes, fighting to ignore the way I immediately listened more closely to hear her response.

It didn't come. "Ah…Cole?" Marcus said, sounding uncharacteristically unsure. "Bri's not with us right now."

"The hell do you mean, Marcus?" I snapped into my comm, stepping away from the Centaur. "Where the hell is she?"

I snapped my eyes to Cole, feeling the fury rise in my chest. I'd _told_ Marcus she wasn't trained, wasn't ready for this. And now these two nitwits had dicked around, not even managing to keep a Stranded girl safe. She should have come to the surface with us; she'd have been better dealing with Dix, and she'd be _here_ right now, instead of God-knows-where.

It was just like the fight in the bathroom all over again. We'd all seen Ramos at the canteen station that morning over breakfast, and the predatory gaze half the guys had given her. There were a lot of people who weren't happy with a Stranded walking around in the heart of the COG. Bri had shown what she could do with a pistol at New Hope, but shooting a gear – even in self defense – wasn't the way this had to go down.

Bri had been throwing me for a loop all day. Usually people snapped and told me to just shut the hell up. She had been content to sit and trade colorful barbs the whole way home, never taking them too seriously or getting ticked off. Already, I knew I had met my match. I've got a habit of pushing people's boundaries, seeing how far I could push them before they snapped. And when sarcasm hadn't done it, I'd increased the dosage.

Of course, the ass-slap wasn't one of my better ideas.

I'd wanted to see how far I could push her? I found out _fast_. I hadn't even seen her fist come up before she was slamming it into my jaw. It wasn't the first time I'd taken a sucker-punch to the face, but dammit, she hit _hard._ I'd had my hands full just fending her off, and that was _before_ she pulled the gun. I was lucky to have the left side of my face still attached.

Regardless, catching someone unawares with a few quick moves wasn't the same as being caught flat-footed against someone who was trying to kill you. Cole had an easy, trusting nature, and he'd felt it safe to leave Bri alone to wash the vomit out of her hair. Even her dog had left her, choosing instead to curl up in the corner of the garage while we prepped to move out.

I'd almost been too late. The thumps and muffled cries could be heard all the way down the hallway. One of the a-holes from breakfast had cornered her in the bathroom, and we had just left her alone. Damn it, we'd _left her alone._ The first thing they taught you in basic was always work in pairs, _especially _while in enemy territory. Cole, and Dom, and the rest of them felt safe in the base, but, in truth, there was probably nowhere more dangerous for Bri.

The door had been locked, so I'd booted it in without thinking. It hadn't even taken me half a second to register that there were blood smears all around the bathroom, probably from the split lip and bleeding gash on Bri's face. Bruises were already swelling on her neck, jaw, and left arm. She was weakly struggling against Ramos – the same gear who'd given her a tough time with the canteens. He'd lifted her by the neck against the wall, and was brandishing a glinting knife in the space next to her throat.

I'd attacked. I hadn't even paused a second to _think_, to remind myself that Ramos was a gear like me, that she was just some Stranded, that he'd had a knife. I tackled him, and we went down to the ground, both struggling for possession of the weapon. Suddenly, all close-quarters-combat training went out the window. Evasive maneuvers, leaving myself room to dodge and evade…none of that happened. All that mattered was getting him away from _her._

If any woman could bring you to your knees, it was that woman.

I was going to kill him. I could feel it in my chest. He'd gone for a punch that I'd ducked out of, snatching the knife as I went. The blade had cut into my palm, but I hadn't even felt it. I'd yanked him to his feet, rotating the knife for a better grip. _All the better to kill you with, my dear…_

That was when I'd caught sight of Bri, shaking and curled up on the floor. With all her bluster and big talk, the way she'd built herself up, all of her cocky attitude…it never dawned on me exactly how tiny she really was. Compared to civilians and Stranded, gears almost looked like a different species of humans. Frontline gears were awarded three times the amount of rations of a civvie. Plus, lugging heavy armor and weapons around all day led to the muscular, brick-shithouse look every gear had.

She had to be at least a foot shorter than me, which I'd noticed, but never really _noticed_. Her arms were thin and shaking, painfully vacant of the mountain of muscle that gears had. Her long black hair was still wet, hanging in straggly, limp strands down her back. Her brown eyes were wide and panic-filled as she fought to keep the gun steady in her grip, as if the weight of the pistol was too much for her.

All of a sudden, I'd had something much, _much_ more important to focus on.

I'd thrown Ramos out of the bathroom, growling some barely coherent threat his way. Bri was still curled up on the dingy bathroom floor, not looking like she even had the strength to move. And yet, she still mustered up a snarky comment to throw my way. There she was, looking like death warmed over, tossing around sarcastic barbs like nothing was wrong.

It was then I figured I was a goner.

I didn't touch her, figuring she needed her space. I'd be damned if I was going to leave her alone, though, even if that was what she wanted. I didn't want Ramos coming back and finding her again. I'd grabbed her pack so she couldn't run off, and personally escorted her to the med clinic. I figured I'd at least _try_ to get her out of there alive.

And now Marcus was saying she was _missing?_

"Woah, Boss Man," Cole said, deadly serious. "There's something you're not telling us. What happened? Where's Bri? Where's Dom?"

Again with that damn pause. With Marcus, sometimes the pauses told you just as much as he said aloud. "Over the comm isn't the place to say," he finally answered. "Dom's right here, we're continuing on towards Nexus. Either Bri's not answering her comm, or she has it switched to another channel. I have Anya looking for her over the system. As soon as she says anything, we'll find her."

I snorted in derision. Again, sending in a chick who had no idea how to use the equipment given to her. I yanked my hand away from my comm after setting it to 'receive only'. "_Son of a bitch..." _ I muttered under my breath. After Marcus and Dom set off the beacon, there'd be _minutes_ before the COG army barreled down in force on top of Nexus, awakening every damn grub underground. Bri would be screwed if we couldn't evac her before then.

Cole signed off, and slapped the side of the Centaur. "Guess you know where we're heading," he said to me, climbing into the passenger seat. Bri was just as important – if not more – to Cole as she was to me. He'd be worried about her, too.

And just what the hell was Marcus not telling us? 'Not fit for comms?' My bullshit detector was screaming at full volume.

I jumped in the Centaur right behind Cole, hitting the gas before I'd even shut the door. "Next time Marcus has a plan, remind me to punch him in the face," I said angrily, heading back up towards Nexus.

* * *

You can't save yourself if you don't know the danger you're in.

If you're looking ahead, you can't see the past that's creeping up. We'd all like to think that we're strong, that we're capable of solving our own problems. And sometimes, you're right. Sometimes you can put on a brave face, struggle through until whatever haunts you is gone.

But sometimes, your most challenging obstacle isn't circumstance, isn't some external force, or even your worst nightmare. Sometimes, it's those closest to you, those you _never_ even saw coming.

As a soldier, there's no greater luxury in the field than working with a friend you rely on. When you find someone you can trust absolutely, you want them on every operation you do. And nothing hurts worse than having that trust broken; to be betrayed by those you thought would always have your back.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her dying.

I saw her sickened and emaciated corpse slowly sinking to the earthen floor while her blood painted the walls in a deep red. I saw Marcus' ice-cold eyes appraising me, betraying me. I saw the false innocence in _his_ eyes as he rose up, the evidence of his atrocious crime lying at his feet.

I felt the absoluteness of their betrayal with each echoing footstep that brought me towards their demise. I wasn't trying to be quiet; let the Locust come. Let anyone come. A fight was just what I needed to release some of the stifling pressure building up in my chest. I had been walking for hours, but there was one undeniable truth that was becoming apparent with each step I took.

I was completely, absolutely lost.

The network of underground tunnels twisted and backtracked upon each other, occasionally dead-ending onto a stone wall or steep drop-off. Coupled with the lack of light, and menacing shadows, the underground world was a labyrinth of wrong turns and turnarounds. If we had just followed the main highway towards Nexus, instead of turning off and going deeper underground, we would have found Nexus hours ago.

Of course, then I'd still be nothing more than a simple pawn in their twisted game. All the memories of my time with them were now haunted, tainted with new knowledge. I couldn't afford to think too long, however. Thinking was bad. It was better to work with actions, with a singular act in mind.

_Kill Dominic Santiago._

The longer I traveled, the colder the world around me became. Exhaustion quickly sank its venomous teeth into my limbs, making my steps sluggish and weak. How long had we been trapped in this hellhole? A day? Maybe more? Only Sam's quiet breathing and irreversible will kept me going. She plodded carefully besides me, never once wavering. Perhaps we would get out of this after all. Her thick tail beat a regular rhythm against my leg, setting the pace for our walk.

Unbidden and without warning, my traitorous mind chose that moment to jump to another plane of reality, a memory that had nothing to do with where I was.

**_"Daddy!" the young girl screeched, running as fast as her little legs would carry her. Tears flooded freely from her eyes and ran down her red cheeks. She was sobbing and panting for air when she came around the corner of their house._**

**_Dominic stopped what he was doing and sprinted towards the sound of his daughter in distress. "Sylvia?" he called, adrenalin already pumping its' way through his system. He caught her in his arms, visually checking her for any harm. "Sylvia, baby, what's wrong?"_**

**_She couldn't speak for a second – out of breath from her sobs and sprints – but she didn't appear to be in any physical distress. "The sign!" she gasped out. "It…says….'Last Dog'!" _**

**_Needless to say, Dominic was certainly confused. "What?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together. "I don't-"_**

**_"Daddy, the sign!" she insisted. "It says that there's going to be no more dogs! Why? Where are they all going?"_**

**_"Show me the sign," he said calmly. Sylvia's sobs had quieted, but tears still ran freely as if from a faucet. She pointed the way, and Dominic soon found himself in front of the stop sign at the end of their street. He gave the sign a quick once-over, finding Sylvia's mistake immediately. She had just learned to read, and, apparently, had misinterpreted the letters. "Sylvia," he said warmly, a grin threatening to escape. "It doesn't say 'Last Dog', it says ' __Lost__ Dog'."_**

**_"Oh…" she said quietly, rereading the sign. She looked placated for a second, but started crying all over again. "But, daddy, why is the dog lost? We've got to find him!"_**

**Well done,_ Dominic thought to himself. _Mouth, meet foot._ "Sweetheart," he said gently, "we don't know this dog. His owners might have already found him. He might not even be missing now!"_**

**_"But we have to try!" she whined out. "If I was missing, would you just give up on me?"_**

**_Before he could say that a missing little girl was not the same as a dog, he stopped himself just in time. "Baby girl, I would _never _give up on finding you."_**

The stomping of boots nearby snapped me out of my reverie just in time. I ducked into an outcropping of rocks just in time to let a pair of Locust guards go right past. I watched them go before letting my head sink back against the solid rock at my back. My heart pounded irregularly in my chest, and sudden beads of sweat probed onto my forehead. _You lied…_ I thought to myself. _You didn't find me. You didn't even _try_ to find me…_

I fought the memory, forcing it back into the dark corners of my mind. I couldn't afford to think about it now.

I ventured onto a serrated outcropping with many different levels beneath it. Many of them dead-ended onto a sheer cliff drop. Even from my high vantage point, I could see the numerous Locusts completing their rounds. With this many guards, I had to be getting close to Nexus.

Perhaps any sane person would have ventured around the death-trap of Locust guards, but I wasn't exactly sane at the moment. Perhaps a fight would help clear my mind and refocus. Anything to free myself of the mental image of my mother's dead body falling freely through the air.

I eyed a pair of guards quickly approaching on the level beneath me, directly underneath my little perch. Silently, I eased myself over the outcropping, dangling there by my fingers and nothing more. I motioned to Sam to stay quiet. She laid down silently, her thick fur masking her movements. I waited for the pair of grub pukes to travel beneath me before relinquishing my grip on the balcony.

I landed on the shoulders of the first grub. He stayed standing out of some inexplicable force of will. I wrapped my hands around his thick neck and violently yanked to the left, snapping his neck. I jumped off of his shoulders as he started to fall. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The other grub looked astonished, and hesitated a split-second too long before grabbing his gun. I slammed my fist into his neck, forcing him to drop his gun. I snatched it out of mid-air and whipped him with it, knocking him off balance. I kicked his center chest plate, sending him barreling over the edge of the cliff.

It was over in a matter of seconds.

I could hear the next patrol coming, so I quickly sent the first grub's dead body over the edge also. To the left there was another balcony. I propelled myself along it, landing feet first against the chest of a lone guard. He fell hard, hitting his head against the stone floor and knocking himself unconscious. I rolled with the momentum, coming up just in time to yank his shotgun out of the air before it could clatter against the floor.

I got to my feet quickly, racking some shells into the grub's gun. Hearing the slight sound of footsteps scraping over loose pebbles, I spun around, jabbing the gun's barrel into the face of a surprised – and unarmed – grub.

I could see the shock in his jet-black eyes and smell his putrid scent. His gloved hand inched toward his gun strapped across his back, and I motioned threateningly with the gun. "Don't. Even. _Think_ about it…" I snarled at him. He looked at me, then down to my gun, and then across to the unconscious grub behind me. His eyes hardened a split-second before he lunged at me.

I rolled to the right, feeling his arms skid right past my boots. He managed to get a quick peal of fire off – sending the sound of gunfire echoing all around us – before I righted myself and sent two shells his way. He fell to the ground, dead, just as the thunderous sound of dozens of running grubs came my way.

"Well…_fuck_…" I muttered just before squads of grubs surrounded me on all sides.

I swung the lancer around in a circle, sending a blast of gunfire in all directions. It bought me just enough time to sprint backwards, spinning behind a massive boulder for cover. Three grubs approached me from the left, and I shot three times with my pistol.

They doubled over in pain, and I dove out of my hiding place and into theirs. I used my momentum to kick the left one in the chest. He fell hard, knocking over another Locust who had come running around the slab of rock. I spun to my feet, slamming my pistol into the neck of one of the three. I squeezed the trigger and shot his neck point-blank. Using his falling momentum, I grabbed his body and spun us around, launching his corpse at the other, knocking him off balance. In the split second it took him to shake off his compatriot's dead body, I drove my boot into his knee, feeling the satisfying _crack _as the kneecap broke. He roared wordlessly, bringing around his gun to hit me with. I ducked just in time, feeling the wind as his gun parted the space above my head. I stuck my pistol right underneath his chest plate and pulled the trigger.

Three or four more grubs came around the side of the boulder, sending a deadly storm of bullets my way. I leaped out of the way, hearing them give chase. Circling the boulder, there was another group of grubs running straight forward me. Not slowing down, I sprinted towards them. Just as they raised their weapons to fire, I slipped down onto my back, sliding between the leader's legs. Unable to stop running, the idiots behind me slammed into their buddies just as they squeezed their triggers. The whole group was now a mess of bloody, broken limbs and dead bodies.

I staggered to my feet, checking frantically for cover. My wishes were granted in the form of an armored turret. I slid behind it, hearing the sharp _dings_ as bullets collided with its thick metal surface. I grabbed the controls to keep myself from going too far, and felt the vibrations as the turret unleashed its deadly storm.

There was a huge, groaning crash, companied with shocked and angry yells. I peeked out from underneath the armor to find the cause of the commotion. The gunfire from the turret had taken out the supports for one side of the balcony, sending it and the grubs aboard it crashing down to the floor. Those beneath were killed by falling debris, or were knocked forcibly off the edge of the cliff.

I yanked the turret to the right, aiming again for the other balcony's supports. Those aboard, who had seen what had happened to those across from them, were trying to run to safety. They were too late, as the onslaught of fire from my turret knocked them all to their deaths.

Now, to deal with the remainder grubs on my level. The shield in front of the turret rattled with the impact of enemy fire, and I instinctively knew my cover would not last for long. Making a split-second decision, I ripped a slip of fabric from around the hem of my pants and tied it around the trigger group of the turret. The turret fired blindly at the grubs, although I had no idea if it was actually doing any damage. For now, that was not my goal.

I slammed my shoulder against the turret's shield, feeling it give way slightly. Another two forceful shoves and it detached completely. I snatched it out of the air before it could fall and leave me vulnerable to locust fire. Feeling the heavy metal bite into my fingers, I rested my boot against the barrel of the turret and _shoved._

I pulled the shield over my body and laid prone against the cool floor as the turret above me spun in a threatening circle of death. The momentum of the ricochet kept it spinning long after the grunts and shouts of the Locust faded into oblivion. Once the belt ran empty, the turret no longer spewed bullets and circled harmlessly to a stop.

For a moment, all I could hear was the echo of my breathing against my metal shield. I shifted it to the side and sat up, cautiously looking for anyone who might have survived the attack. There were none. I rose stiffly to my feet, feeling my skin catch and pull against fresh wounds and drying blood – the majority not my own. The carnage and gore spread out in a sickening sea around me, leaving me awash in the cruelty of it all.

**_"Bennie! Sylvia! How many times do I have to tell you, knock it off!" Mommy's voice echoed threateningly around the room. She gave them an exasperated look and brushed her hair back, leaving behind a smear of flour across her forehead. _**

**_The troublesome duo dropped their arms immediately, feeling abashed. "But mom-" Bennie started, ready to jump in to his own defense._**

**_"He 'tarted it!" Sylvia whined, rubbing her arm where her brother had gotten in a particularly good hit. They had been fighting over the last cookie when things had gotten ugly and dissolved to blows. _**

**_Maria sighed, squeezing her eyes shut for a split-second. What she wouldn't give for just a few moments of _peace._ "Alright you two, listen up." She bent between them, snatching the cookie off the table and holding it up. "Now, what would happen if I gave this cookie to Bennie?" she asked._**

**_Bennie's eyes lit up and he reached for it, just as Sylvia let out a whiny, "No! I want da' cookie!" _**

**_"Exactly," Maria said, pulling the cookie out of Bennie's grip. "And if I gave it to Sylvie, Bennie would be upset because he didn't get it, right?"_**

**_"Mommy, I wants the cookie!" Bennie said, letting his lower lip tremble just the slightest. Maria bit down a grip at his forlorn expression. _**

**_"I know," Maria said. "Now, if we fight over the cookie, feelings get hurt, and so do people. Right?" she questioned, rubbing a red mark on Sylvia's arm. Sylvia nodded solemnly, staring at her mother. "But," Maria continued, "if we _share_ the cookie, then everybody gets what they want, and everybody is happy." She split the cookie into two parts, and held each in one hand._**

**_"Now, before I give these to you, I want you to make me a promise." Maria gave each of her children a serious look, evoking their sincerity. "_No more fighting_. Okay? From now on we settle out differences like mature boys and girls, not by squabbling and scratching. Deal?" She held the cookies out enticingly. _**

**_"We promise," Bennie and Sylvia parroted, their voices unison. Maria smiled as she passed off the cookies._**

"Hello? Damnit, can anyone hear me?" The crackling voice snapped me out of my reverie, bringing me back to the present. I whipped out my weapon again, snapping it around to aim into dark corners, looking for the source of the voice.

"Who's there?" I spat, my finger resting heavily on the trigger. The only thing that should have been this far in were grubs, and a pair of recognizable gears. The rest would only be trouble.

"Ugh, _finally,_" the voice – a woman's – answered. She sounded close – much too close for comfort. I scanned the darkness furtively, looking for her. "You have no idea how long I've been looking for you. Your name is Bri, correct?"

Okay, now this was getting scary. "I'm giving you one chance to answer me," I growled to the voice_. I still couldn't find her! _"Who are you and how do you know my name?"

I could hear her clear her throat – _loudly_. She sounded like she was right next to my ear. My hand went to block my hearing for a second, and then felt my fingers bump something. It was the comm unit Cole had given me. I had forgotten I was wearing it, and she was using it to communicate with me. "Of course," she said, and I imagined the nameless woman straightening her posture. "Marcus asked me to locate you. My name is Lieutenant Anya Stroud, with the Logistics division of the Coalition of Ordered Governments. I'm here to get you out of there."

"Hold up," I snapped, lowering my lancer now that I discovered there was no immediate danger. Sam came down and sat next to me, giving me a quizzical doggy-look. "How exactly did you find me?"

"You must have accidentally switched to a different channel," she answered. "Marcus tried to contact you after you were separated from them, but he couldn't get a response. I had to flip through every station until I found you."

My mouth twisted into a frown as I deliberated. _Separated?_ Well…that was _one_ way of putting it. Due to her nonchalant reasoning, I assumed she didn't know the specifics yet. If she did, I didn't think she'd be so ready to try and help me. "Alright…" I said slowly. "What else did Marcus ask you to do?"

"He wants me to try and get you out of there. Problem is, I don't have the locations of any exits." She let out a light puff of air, and I heard some clicking noises. "I have you pinpointed, and I have Dom and Marcus pinpointed, but besides that-"

"That's enough," I interrupted her. If she didn't know what I was planning, maybe she could be of some use. . I could spend the next couple hours wandering around on my own, or I could employ help from this 'Anya'. "Can you just direct me towards Marcus and…and…in their direction?" I did a mental head-slap. If I was trying to keep her unassuming, disconnected babbling was _not_ how to do it.

There was a pause while she considered. "I could do that…" she said slowly. "But Marcus wanted you _out _of there. He was adamant about that."

_Of course he was,_ I seethed silently. _He probably knows what I have planned._ "What's worse?" I said, trying to keep the angry hiss out of my voice, "Me running around in a Locust stronghold by myself, or me running around with half of Delta as backup?"

It was quiet while she thought. _Come on,_ I mentally urged. "Alright," she agreed. "I'll send you to Marcus, but, if you find an exit, you _will _take it, understood?"

"Of course," I replied, knowing the words were a lie even as I said them. "Now, which way?"

She kept me going in the right direction, but that was all she could do. Her 'pinpoints' didn't account for the numerous holes, caverns, and dead ends. Occasionally I had to back-track and turn around, heading in the opposite direction before I could find a turnaround. Still, it was faster than mindless wandering.

"Alright, Anya, where to now?" I said into my comm, and for once there wasn't an immediate response. "Anya?" I asked again, this time getting slightly worried. I was running blind. Without her input, I'd be back to meandering about.

There was a crackle as she came back online. "Sorry," she said, sounding distracted. "That was Marcus."

A wedge landed itself in my throat. So this was it. Marcus would tell her his suspicions – which were no doubt spot-on – and she'd refuse to help me. Or, even worse, she'd send me right into a pack of grubs.

"They're setting off the beacon," she supplied, her voice much too easy to be lying. I breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't know how much longer I can help you."

"Just keep me on track," I said, waiting for her next direction.

She paused again. "You need to do an about-face, and head to the left."

I froze, my hand shaking slightly in anger. So he had told her after all. "And why would I do that?" I almost snarled into the comm.

"Marcus found an exit, but it's on the other side of Nexus. You need to turn around. You're closer to Nexus than I thought."

She kept talking, but I wasn't listening any longer. I jogged up to the end of my hallway and hung a right – the exact opposite of the direction she'd told me to go. I rounded the corner, and I felt a slow, menacing grin spread my face.

The torrents and peaks of towers crashed through the open space, revealing the Locust's capital city. _Nexus…_ I breathed, feeling awe-struck. The same weird and enthralling architecture I had noticed before, on their torches, was evident in their city. The compact buildings swooped and circled around each other, and yet there wasn't a bit of wasted space anywhere. Stone steps led from my perch down towards the center of the city, where not a single grub could be seen. In the middle of the city – standing tall amongst the rest – was what appeared to be their capital building. I assumed that was where the Queen would be, and hence, Delta Squad. The whole city glowed and pulsed with a series of yellow lights scattered around thevicinity. The entire structure was suspended over a lake of luminescent imulsion. A series of turrets surrounded the city, but I knew I could escape their fire.

"Damn it Bri, are you listening to me?" Anya's voice finally cut through. "Delta just set the beacon; hundreds of COG gears are going to be drilling down _right on top of you_! You're standing right in the middle of the battlefield!"

I adjusted my weapons; my pistol locked and loaded on my belt, my sniper slung comfortably across my back, and the lancer resting its' weight equally across my arms. _It's time to finish this,_ I mentally whispered.

"Bri, listen to me!" Anya said, with just a trace of desperation in her voice. "You're not just on the battlefield; you're right in the middle! You'll be caught between the gears and the grubs; you have to get out of there! Hello? Listen! Get out of there _now!_ If you don't, you're going to _die!_"

I grinned again as I brought my hand to my ear. I deftly unclipped the comm unit from my ear, feeling it tug slightly on the hair it caught itself on. I could still hear her frantic orders droning dully through the air, as I tossed it onto the ground.

I lifted my boot and stomped on the comm, crushing it into pieces, and took my first real step into the City of Nexus.

_No going back now…_

* * *

**_Author's Note: Things are getting intense for our poor, little Bri now. Not only is she travelling alone in the city of Nexus (and is finally out of those stupid tunnels!), Marcus knows she's coming, and what she's planning. Also, if that wasn't enough, there's soon to be a full scale war between the COG and the Locusts right on top of her. So what's a girl to do?_**

**_Besides kick ass, that is. :D_**

**_So what did you think of Baird's point-of-view? In truth, that was the reason this chapter took so long. He has a certain….personality, that I wanted to make sure I did justice to. I don't know how many times I re-wrote that. *shudders* But hopefully we got to see exactly what was running through his mind, and see his feelings towards Bri! _**

**_I know many of you were…*ahem*…booing for Baird earlier, but did I manage to shift your opinions? No? That's okay, he's still got to convince himself and Bri, so plenty of time! *evil grin*_**

**_Next chapter will be much more interesting, as we finally see the first interaction between Dom and Bri since she found out the truth. Plus, finding the queen, a mild skirmish with General Skorge, and a quick trip down the side of a mountain…just a normal day in the life of a gear!_**

**_Huge thanks to rockforthecross74 (Who I actually got to fangirl over Baird! Muhahaha!) for betaing this chapter! _**

**_Also, huge thanks to anyone who reviews! (Hint, hint) So why are you still reading this humungous author's note? Click that review box beneath this, and talk to me! I'll even send you a little sneak-peak of the next chapter! :D_**


	15. Hollow Inside

Locust Main City, Nexus

Present Time

_Understand what a world must do to survive – what humans must do, and what WE must do. But survive we must.  
Now the humans' long struggle against overwhelming odds approaches the final, desperate stand…_

_-Queen Myrrah of the Locust Horde, addressing new locust troops waiting to go into battle for the first time._

The echoing silence was what bothered me the most.

I knew I was in the right place; how many sprawling underground cities could there be? I'd expected heavy resistance in the form of every grub imaginable; wretches, boomers, brumacks, and more, but the hallways were startling, unsettling bare.

Nexus, despite being the main Locust stronghold, was still one of the most ornate cities I'd ever been in. The hallways were lavishly decorated with tall, sloping ceilings and strange inscriptions printed upon the walls. The stone buildings towered floors above my head. And yet, there were still no grubs to be found. They had to be fighting some other battle in another part of the city.

The one thing that was disorienting was that where the sky normally was, there was a thick, heavy curtain of dirt. It was a huge, unending, earthen grave. The only light came from the slightly luminescent glow of the imulsion, and the glowing orbs of flaming torches that peered out behind windows. Despite the huge, impressive architecture, there was a film of dust and dirt that was ever-present and covered everything. There were dark shadows in the corners and niches of the city, places where the sun's warmth had never shone. The stifling oppressiveness of the darkness swirled around the tall buildings, making me shiver with dread.

Anya's warning about being in the middle of the battlefield hung heavy on my mind, forcing me to keep to quiet shadows and corners. I found myself glancing up frequently to check the earthen ceiling, finding it still in place and stable…at least for now. It was almost too easy to imagine the COG forces above, barreling down on Nexus for the invasion.

I headed for the central tower; it was the closest thing I'd seen to a palace, and it was my bet that I'd find the Locust Queen there, and Marcus and…_him._ The palace was in the middle of the city, as far as you could get away from the churning lake of imulsion underneath the city. The COG forces would need solid ground to land on. Marcus would set off the beacon there, as to ensure no gears would land in the luminescent goop.

It only took me seconds to analyze the facts and come up with a plan. It bothered me how easily I could guess at their plans, and how well I could read them. Perhaps there would be time to ponder that later, but right now, it sure came in handy.

I treaded carefully onto their stone streets, my footsteps echoing ominously around me. All was quiet, which unnerved me. This was the Locust's main city; and yet there wasn't a grub to be found. Where were they all at?

The answer came to me in a bloody pile of mangled limbs and shell casings. There had been a fight here recently, and, judging by the jagged cuts from a chainsaw bayonet, it was between these grubs and the gears. I knelt cautiously next to a bloody corpse, stalling for time before gathering up the courage to look around. _Their bodies aren't here…_ I thought to myself._ They might still be alive._ The thought came with an inexplicable pang of… not exactly happiness, but relief, maybe? Which made absolutely no sense; if the grubs killed them, I would be relieved of my task. I should have been _hoping_ to find their dead corpses strewn around, instead of pleased to know they were still around.

I clicked my fingers for Sam to follow, and she abandoned the detached arm she had been sniffing thoughtfully. She bounded over to my side, fur bristling slightly. She didn't like being underground any more than I did. We headed off towards the tallest building in the center of the city, finding more and more pockets of bloody battlefields strewn frequently along the way. I searched furtively for Delta's bodies, but to no avail. It seemed that task was doomed to fall to me.

_I don't have to hurt all of them, right? _A part of my mind argued with me. _Just…_him_, the murderer. Cole, Marcus…Baird….I won't hurt them, will I?_

I didn't have an answer for myself. I found myself slowing down, hesitant to reach the center building, where I would find Delta. Traitorous thoughts skittered through my mind, holding me captive. I froze against the cool wall of a building For a moment, I didn't see the sprawling city before me. Instead, I saw Cole's wide grin as he called me 'Lil Sis'. I saw Baird's shocking blond hair, and the slight smirk he'd give me when I said a snarky comment he approved of.

But then, I saw the spray of blood and bones painting the walls, how he dropped the pistol that took my mother's life, Marcus' cold and unfeeling gaze as he called me 'Sylvia'. I tiredly ran a hand down my face, feeling the thick coating of dirt, blood, and tears on my face. I briefly closed my eyes, listening to the silence that screamed the truth. _A life for a life…_

I pushed away from the wall, taking off at a light jog for the Queen' palace.

_Of course,_ I seethed silently. _A __**tiny**__, __**dark**__, tunnel. Just my luck. _

I'd found my way into the Queen's palace by way of a small hole in the side of a crumbling wall. Small, dark places were definitely _not_ my favorite place to spend my time, but it looked like I had no choice. _Great…_

Sam gave me a questioning look, cocking her head to one side and perking her ears. _Your call, boss,_ she seemed to say, sitting on her haunches. I sucked in a breath and lay down on the dusty ground. I army-crawled forward, trying to scold myself into keeping my breathing deep and even.

* * *

**"No, please!" she cried out, fighting against Bane. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"**

**The monster before her bared his teeth and thrust her forward, deeper into the closet. She tried to escape again, so he slapped her – hard – with the back of his hands. She fell against the door jam, whimpering slightly. "Get in there!" he roared at her, kicking at her with his heavy boots until she retreated into the dark closet. He slammed the thick door shut, blocking any and all dim light.**

**"No!" she cried, feeling the tears drench the collar of her dirty shirt. She thumped her tiny fist against the door. This was another of Bane's sadistic tortures, one of her most hated. Anything was better than being locked in the stifling darkness and silence. Still, Bane knew how she hated the closet treatment, so it was a punishment he pulled regularly.**

**She sat on the dirty ground, having to remind herself to breathe. Her eyes sank shut - not that it made a difference against the thick black. The only sound within the small casket-like room was that of her own cries and whimpers. She placed her hands against two of the walls, just to make sure they weren't, in fact, closing in on her. **_**Breath…**_**she mentally whispered, fighting the fear and horror pressing heavily against her heart.**

* * *

The tunnel scraped the top of my head, but as long as I kept my eyes forward and focused on the dim light emanating from the exit, I was fine. Sam crawled through behind me, and I listened to the familiar sound of her light panting, scolding myself for the sudden adrenaline rush.

I peeked out of the other side of the tunnel, seeing two heavily-armored legs cast their shadow across my face. Two guards, standing outside my tunnel. I grinned slowly; _This__…is gonna be fun…_

Getting softly to my feet, I stayed pressed against the wall at their backs. They were watching the hallway, either not noticing or not caring about the entrance behind them. In truth, there weren't many who would have been able to fit through it. One of the few benefits of being small, I guess.

"Excuse me!" I sing-songed from behind them. They jumped, startled, scrambling for their weapons. They both turned in towards me, still caught off guard. I reached up, and, grabbing both from their necks, I slammed their heads forward.

Their heads slammed together with enough force to knock them both out.. They slumped simultaneously to the ground, out cold. I stood between them, shaking my head. "I'm impressed," I muttered sarcastically, running my eyes over their motionless forms. "I've never seen such small minds within such big heads." I stepped over them, waiting for Sam to crawl out of the tunnel behind me.

The ornate hallway, speckled with tall pillars that added dimension to the thick stone walls, spread out both to the left and right. I looked in both directions, seeing nothing that said 'Queen's Room this way'. I deliberated for a second before deciding that the right would lead further into the palace. I stepped over one of the unconscious grubs, making sure to kick him – hard – as I headed to the left.

I passed an open balcony that overlooked the rest of the city, and I paused to look at the ceiling. Just then, a large, cylindrical, metal grindlift barreled its' way through the earthen ceiling. It blazed towards the ground in a rush of flame and sparks; a shooting star of bright light and promised death. They landed on the southern side of the city. Seconds later, the echoing sound of gunfire could be heard.

_Who is that? _I wondered, pausing with idle curiosity. _Maybe…Cole and Baird?_ There had to be hundreds of gears on the surface about to bombard the quiet city of Nexus; the chances that it was the _two_ gears I was worried about were slim. But…still…I had hoped I would get to the other half of Delta before they did.

The entrance of another grindlift propelled me into action. I took off down the hallway, heading deeper into the Queen's palace.

"They do not understand," a voice suddenly echoed through the hallway, transmitted over some sort of hidden speaker system. I stumbled for a second and then tightened my grip upon my lancer. It was a feminine voice, but not one I had heard before. "They do not know why we wage this war. Why we cannot stop. _Will_ not stop. Why we will fight and fight and _fight_."

I slowed to a stop, listening closely to the voice. Could that have been…the _Queen? _"Until we win…Or we die. And we are not dead yet."

Sam growled low in her throat, and I started walking again. "Despite their best efforts at survival, the Humans of Sera continue to march blindly to their imminent doom."

"Yep," I said to myself. "Definitely the Queen."

"We could have cooperated with the ground walkers for our mutual salvation, but they are humans, and they only understand dominance and ownership," she continued. I assumed the 'ground walkers' were us. _Yeah, cooperating with Locust. Like _that_ would ever happen…_

I started walking again, trying my best to ignore the Queen's propaganda echoing through the hallways. She spouted off fancy ways of saying that they had to kill all humans, that destroying the 'ground walkers' was their _only_ chance at survival. Guess what? Destroying the Locusts was _our_ only chance at survival. I kept walking, until a certain line caught my attention.

"The Lambent are inferior. The plague must be stopped."

I puzzled over her statement. Who exactly were the 'Lambent'? It had to be another fancy term like 'ground walkers'. I figured it didn't matter and started forward again, doing my best to ignore the Queen's propaganda - but it wasn't easy. It felt like there were speakers literally around every corner. Her loud, arrogant voice echoed through the halls, bringing forth a message of hatred and killing for all of Nexus to hear. "Like the humans, the Lambent are weak. Crush them beneath your feet!"

"Yeah, yeah…" I muttered, fed up with listening to her. I turned down another endless hallway, feeling the frustration well up within my chest yet again. Nexus was _huge_. Even the Queen's palace was taking hours to search. I forced myself to jog to the end of the tunnel. Just before I turned around, about to head back to the staircase, the ominous sound of gunfire rang out from the left.

Curbing the persistent urge to go running head long into the battle, I ducked down and crept along the side of the balcony, peeking out from one of the numerous ornate windows. I could see the locust, mostly grubs, alternating between shooting and reloading. Sliding my sniper off my shoulders, I looked through the scope for the attacking gears. It perturbed me when I couldn't find them immediately. Instead, what I did see confused and shocked me.

There were no gears in the fight. Instead, it almost looked like the locusts were fighting each _other._

"What the-" I bit out, my eyebrows knitting together. On one side of the 'battlefield', there were dozens of normal grubs, firing a cacophony of bullets, shells, and grenades. On the other end of the spectrum, the other 'locust' stumbled across the room. They used no weapons – unless you counted the way they blew up when fired upon – and had no discernible method of attack. The difference between the two species of locust was easy to decipher, as one type was _glowing._ Their skin pulsed faintly with the same acrid yellow color of imulsion. I watched – transfixed – as another glowing grub blew into large, charred pieces. Its' body immediately lost the faint radiance of yellow, decomposing into a detonated, organic grenade. The blaze of yellow didn't disappear, however.

The yellow light left the destroyed shell of a body, and crept upon the ground like a living thing. It gained speed rapidly, moving fluidly like water across the ground. One of the unaffected grubs leapt out of the way, but another wasn't so lucky. He gave a huge, rumbling yell as the lights wrapped themselves around his boots and crawled upward. He stomped furiously upon the ground, desperate to free himself. But, just like the shadows that occupied the corners of the battlefield, the lights were irrepressible in their pursuit. How did one get rid of something that was never truly there?

The grub gave one last, strangled sob before collapsing onto the ground. The blaze of brilliance sank its' way down into his flesh, contorting and transforming the grub's thick, grey flesh until it pulsed with yellow. His body morphed before my eyes, becoming longer and larger. It seemed to shift away from him in an explosion of growth until the transformed _thing_ bore no resemblance to the grub that had been standing there seconds before. It lurched to its' feet and started stumbling to a new victim, the rifle laying forgotten on the ground.

Another grub – the one who had jumped out of the way – fired blindly at the new figure. I felt the rush of heat as it exploded, scattering bits of charred flesh around the battlefield arena. I quickly ducked back around the wall to avoid being hit with the contaminated effluent. _Holy hell!_ I thought to myself, _What _was _that?_

The answer came to me quickly, even though I had not searched for it. It had to be the lambent – one of the 'enemies' the Queen had been harping about on the intercom. The ones she was _still _going on about, over the intercom. I couldn't focus long enough to make sense of the pragmatic speech going on, however.

"The locusts are fighting each other," I said numbly, not moving from my seat on the hard marble ground. "Of course. Why wouldn't they be?"

Actually, just the sight of the moving lights had triggered the gut-deep fight-or-flight reaction. If the blaze of yellow had been coming at me, I would have fired first too, no questions asked. I was still stunned at the very implications of what this could mean. If, in fact, the 'Lambent' were what had forced the locusts out of their tunnels, and beginning the decade-and-a-half war with us humans, what would this mean for us?

Taking a deep breath and getting to my feet, I figured I was getting ahead of myself. The locusts were a ruthless and bloodthirsty species. If the lambent wasn't the reason they crawled out of their tunnels, then they would have found another excuse. I only had to look through my memory to see the absolute slaughter those grubs released upon humans. Still – the lambent could turn out to be a much bigger threat.

I slunk up the steps again, walking away from the myriad of battlefield sounds emanating from the floor beneath me. I climbed another flight of stone stairs, listening to the Queen drone on. "The great flood shall vanquish all of our enemies. Let it flow," she called out to her troops. _I'd like to drown you, if it would shut you up…_ I grumbled to myself, climbing up onto another landing. "We cannot allow the Lambent to pollute the surface!" she continued. "We must bury their infection here! The world is rightfully ours, and we _will_ destroy you!"

I passed beneath another speaker, and had to resist the urge to cover my ears as there was a sudden, screeching rush of feedback, almost as if somebody had grabbed a microphone and was overriding the Queen's speech. "Delta Squad in your house, bitch!" an all-too familiar voice cursed out. I froze in place, staring breathlessly at the speaker. "You hear that shit?"

"I…" I gasped, caught off guard. The speaker…it was…

_"Cole?"_

"You grubby-ass bitches are goin' down! Like, way down! Dead down!" Cole continued his tirade over the intercom. "So down you ain't even gonna know which way is up! Your asses are gonna be cryin' to your skank-ass queen, 'Oh mommy, don't let the bad men hurt us'! Fuck you! We gonna whoop your momma's ass! Woo-!" Then there was a loud, groaning crash, like someone had ripped out the wiring to the entire system. What we – the listeners – were left with was sweet, blessed silence.

I froze in the hallway, still straining to hear, as if Cole would come back on, calling me 'Lil' Sis' or something. _Well…_I thought cynically to myself, _I guess it's safe to say Cole and Baird are reunited with Delta…_

The thought didn't bring the expected relief I hoped it would. Meeting up with Baird and Cole was something I had hoped to avoid. 'Inspiring speeches' aside, their presence made what I had to do ten times harder. Sam gave one, almost silent _woof_, signaling she had recognized Cole's voice also. I looked at her – tip of her tail wagging, mouth open and panting, eyes bright and looking at me for guidance – and wondered if I deserved her loyalty on this mission. She gave me this look, this "_Well? Are we gonna go find 'Mr. free-food' or not?"_ and took a few prancing steps up the stairwell.

"Yeah…" I muttered to her, all enthusiasm vacant from my voice. "Yeah, let's go."

Just because I knew Baird and Cole were somewhere in the building, didn't mean I knew where that 'somewhere' was. I still had no choice but to go floor by floor, rising slowly through the Queen's palace. Even if there were directory signs saying, 'Hey idiot! Go this way!' there was no way I could have read them. I climbed one more flight of marble stairs, bypassing what looked to be like some sort of science-y lab. If Baird had been here, he could have made some sense of the flashing computer screens and whatnot, but they meant as little to me as the locust scribes on the walls.

This new floor exited upon yet another senseless balcony, looking onto a huge, open arena. After a courtesy gaze for dimly-glowing blue lights, I trooped onwards toward the next staircase.

That was when I heard Cole's voice again, only this time in _person_, and not over the intercom.

"Yo baby, I'm home!" he called out, sounding so close to me. I froze for a split second before turning and racing back to the balcony. "You hear that? Bring me back to the old days… number 83!" He said the last word in a thunderous, echoing shout that filled the hallway I was racing down. "The Cole Train!" he finished, his voice reverberating around the huge rooms like a sports announcer.

_They're here, they're here, they're here,_ my mind panted to me in a relentless, panic-filled mantra. I leapt over a crashed statue, skidding to a stop by the balcony. I reached for my longshot, whipping it off of my shoulders and into an ideal firing position, using the railing as a rest. My heart beat frantically in my ears as I swept the room with my eyes.

_There._ I could just make out a heavily-armored boot moving as the wearer shifted his weight. I could hear the low droning of conversation, but nothing short of Cole's bellowing voice was going to reach me. I tried taking a few deep breaths, but nothing helped. I was suddenly a huge ball of nerves – adrenaline rushing through my body in almost toxic amounts. Everything seemed to be moving at hyper-speed, but still slow enough for me to process every tiny movement through my sniper. I watched – breathless – as someone in COG uniform stepped out from under the far balcony, into my sights.

It took me a fraction of a pounding heartbeat to recognize that mop of bright, blond hair. "Baird…" I breathed, somehow relieved and disappointed at the same time. He did a slow scan of the room, never raising his line of sight to the above balcony, where I was. I scanned him for any signs of harm, but found none – no knife wounds, no gunshot holes, no make-shift splints for broken bones. There was some blood splattered across his armor, but I'd be willing to bet it was from an unlucky grub, and not from him.

He turned, as if someone had called his name, before following what I could assume was the rest of Delta back under the balcony, and out of my sight. Momentarily saddened by his leaving, I forced myself back into action, slinging my sniper back across my shoulders by its' strap. Finally, _finally,_ I knew where I was going. I raced back through the balcony, hanging a left instead of a right, going through the science labs. Some annoying screen beeped at me while I passed, and I gave it an irritated glace.

It was what I saw that made me do a double-take.

It was Jacinto. The crumbling city was easily recognizable from the tall, impressive turrets of the Allfathers Library and the Octus tower. It also included the supposedly solid bedrock core that Jacinto sat upon, although now there were large gashes and tunnels cutting through Jacinto's impenetrable core. The screen flashed through a simulation, filling the dark areas of empty space in the bedrocks with a deep blue color. The walls of the tunnels gave way, crashing in on one another. I watched, horror filled, as the COG's pride – the solid fuck-ton of granite rock below the last bastion of humanity – gave way to this blue fluid simulator. Simulated chunks of the city gave way, crashing through to the underground. It took a matter of minutes for the simulation to run its' course, culminating with all of Jacinto underground, and covered with the thick, destructive blue fluid.

_Water…_I realized, stricken with fear. _It's water. They're planning on sinking Jacinto…_

Suddenly, one of the pompous lines the Queen had fed her troops over the deactivated intercom flashed through my mind: "Jacinto shall sink, and all of our enemies will be vanquished". I hadn't realized they literally meant _sink_.

"Oh…_God…_" I whispered as the screen froze and reset. My feet took a stumbling step backwards, as if separating myself from the truth would make it false. Images of my life spent in Jacinto flashed through my mind – Ace, the military base, and all the dirty and broken streets that had their own certain charm. Plus the thousands, no – _millions_ - of innocent civilians that still called the city home. All of them, washed away in one great, orchestrated attack of the locust.

I was sprinting for the exit before I had even consciously told my legs what to do. Sam stayed flush with my heels, not understanding the sudden urgency to get away, far away. Screw Delta – they could focus on taking out the Queen. I had to get to Jacinto and warn…who, exactly? Who would listen to me? A small, Stranded girl with a lancer and a prophecy of doom wouldn't warrant shit with the higher ups of COG authority.

_Someone will listen,_ I told myself forcibly, unwilling to believe the opposite. _Someone important. Then they'll have to evacuate._ I sprinted around another corner, feeling my pack thump frantically against my legs. The hallway turned out to be a dead end, culminating in a small, inside-out room. There were two passways, connected by another one that I occupied. Three false walls sprung up through the floor, seriating the room into the three parts. The false walls were made of wood and thick, painted windows that concealed the floor below. I turned to go around, before a voice - one that was quickly coming to be familiar – wafted up through the ground.

"You are the first humans to ever desecrate this palace with your presence." I could hear the words reverberate with authority around the floor beneath me. _They're here…_ I wondered to myself, feeling my heart beat frantically in my chest. It figured that as soon as I stopped looking for them, I would find them. Thoughts of Jacinto flew through my mind as my mouth watered for justice.

I needed a way to see to the floor below me. I searched frantically for a doorway, a staircase, a _something_ that would allow me to peer down to the floor beneath me. With my luck, they'd kill the queen and be gone before I could complete my task.

"It's her!" I heard Dom's voice whisper – I was that close. That close, and I might as well have been on the other side of the city; I was that far from reaching my goal. I spun around, frustrated, and found my deliverance in the form of a broken stained-glass window. I hastened to my perch, looking feverishly out upon the lower floor, upon the Queen's chambers.

My breathing came in hard, labored pants that echoed coldly around me, and I trailed my eyes across the four gears on the floor below me. A large, glass chandelier hung from the ceiling in front of me, casting light upon the floor below. Their backs faced me, as they were completely oblivious to my existence. _It's him…._ my mind whispered cautiously to me, as my eyes locked upon a familiar head of black hair – the same color of my own.

"Hello…._father_…." I whispered as I brought my sniper around from its' sling. I pressed the cold stock to my cheek, closing one eye and gazing hungrily from my scope. I pulled back the bolt, checking the worn brass bullet in the chamber, before letting it slide shut.

The crosshairs centered upon his back as my finger curled easily around the trigger.

_NO!_ A part of my mind protested adamantly. I flinched away from the trigger, my finger automatically going to the safety and clicking it back on. I blinked, stunned, and shifted away from the scope.

In my moment of hesitation, the Queen continued her self-righteous rant. The queen was wearing a thick, heavy gown of what looked like twisted and tangled tentacles. They caressed her slim body; a large, life-like hump of Locust design enveloping her back. But the most astonishing thing was that she was _human._ "And I assure you," she said, "You will almost certainly be the last."

"THAT'S the Locust queen?" Baird said, stunned. "But…she's hot! I mean, seriously hot!" My eyes flickered instinctively to him – easy to identify with his beacon of blond hair. _Hot?_ I thought, annoyed.

Cole's booming voice echoed through the room, louder than them all. "I thought she was supposed to be butt ugly!"

The light banter in the face of adversity forced me to rethink things. I couldn't evade thoughts of Cole and Baird any longer. If I shot Dom, they would turn and fire back. Could I force myself to shoot at them? The same ones I had quickly been growing accustomed to? The ones I was learning to think of as friends?

"You're planning on flooding the hollow," Marcus said in his low, gravelly voice. The deep timber of his speech reverberated through me, making me shiver. _Marcus….he'd never forgive me either. _"Then I guess we would be the last," he finished.

I dragged my eyes away from Marcus' tall frame, and forced myself to look upon the man I was attempting to kill. His tall, broad frame flickered through my memory, wrenching back forgotten fables of a childhood in another world – in another reality. I felt the ghost of his arms around me as he used to swing me high in the air, the both of us laughing happily. How his strong hugs could reassure, heal, and protect from scrapes and bruises. I remembered how his chest would vibrate with laughter as I sat upon his lap, playing all sorts of games.

For the first time in almost fifteen years, I remembered _everything._

* * *

**"You know Mom will never let you keep it, right?" Bennie asked her, as brother and sister tromped through the woods behind their house.**

**Sylvie glanced down at the brown-and-tan puppy tagging along with the pair. She had found the small dog as they were playing, and she was adamant that the time had come for their family to have a dog. "Sure she will," Sylvia answered, laughing as the dog tried to chew on her shoelaces. "No one can resist Molly once they meet her."**

**Bennie shook his head, exasperated. He decided not to press it; he knew how stubborn his little sister could be. They came round the side of the house, passing through the narrow alleyway between their house and their neighbor's. **

**Sylvia, who was busy playing with 'Molly', didn't notice the rusty, black car sitting in their driveway until Bennie let out an excited yell. "Dad!" he called, taking off in a sprint before Sylvia could snap her head up to look. She saw her tall, strong father standing upon the front stoop, holding her mother in his arms.**

**"Daddy!" she also squealed excitedly, following in her brother's footsteps. Dominic grinned widely at his two young children, bending down to receive both of them in a tight hug. Molly came along for the ride, barking and yapping at their feet. **

**"Hey, sweetheart!" Dom said to his daughter, picking her up in his arms. He tilted his jaw to receive her kiss to his cheek, before kissing her back upon her forehead. Bennie, who considered himself too old to share in the spectacle of love, stood awkwardly off to the side. Dom noticed this, and settled for ruffling his son's hair fondly. **_**They're growing up…**_** Dom reminded himself for the millionth time. Coming home was always a bittersweet event, as it always reminded him of what he missed while he was away.**

**"You're home early," Maria noted, smiling slightly at her family. **

**Dom smiled back, feeling Sylvia wrap a small arm around his neck. "They're just running training missions now that the war's over, so they gave almost everyone the weekend off. I've got a fifty-hour pass." **

**The pendulum wars had only just ended three weeks ago; news which had come with a slight sense of astonishment. The world had been at war for eighty-plus years, so the concept of peace was a new one to all of Pelruan. **

**The smile fell from Maria's face as she observed the small dog at her feet, tugging on her shoestrings. "Uh…Sylvia?" she questioned, her voice low and evenly-measured. It was a tone Sylvia had come to know as trouble. "What is this?"**

**"That's Molly!" Sylvia chirped, grinning widely. She turned her pleading face to Dom. "Can we keep her? Please, Daddy? Please!"**

**Dom felt his heart instantly melt; he never could refuse his children anything. "She **_**is**_** only a small dog," he hedged, looking down at 'Molly'. The COG didn't exactly train its' soldiers to be resistant to adorable little girls with big brown eyes, although sometimes Dom wished they would. "I don't see why not." **

**"Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Sylvia squealed, hugging her father's neck tightly. Dom hugged her back, missing the frown spreading across Maria's face. **

**She crossed her arms across her chest before motioning back towards the house. "No need to stay out on the porch. Let's go inside."**

**They trooped through the front door, Molly prancing into the foyer like she already owned the place. Dom set Sylvia on her feet, and she and Bennie ran into the kitchen to play with Molly. Dom started to follow them, but Maria latched onto his sleeve. Dom turned to face her, his smile fading as he spied her expression. "Uh-oh," he said, only slightly teasing. "What did I do wrong?"**

**Maria let go of his sleeve and shook her head. "Dom, I'm raising two children almost by myself, keeping this house running, plus all of the chores and shopping…"**

**"I think I know where you're going with this," Dom interrupted, pulling her into a warm embrace. "You don't want to keep the dog."**

**Her shoulders slumped, signifying surrender. "It's just…I spend all day running after Bennie and Sylvie. Running after a dog doesn't sound any more appealing."**

**"You're right," Dom said. "It was careless. I should have talked to you before saying yes." He pressed a light kiss against her lips before continuing. "I'm sure that they'll understand when you tell them." **

**"When **_**I**_** tell them!" she sputtered in indignation. "Nuh-uh! I'm not being the bad guy on this one. This is your mess to clean up, mister."**

**He chuckled, receiving a glimpse into the 'mom' persona Maria had taken over. "Of course," he said, though his voice carried a twinge of regret. The squeals of laughter and barking echoed around the house. He was not looking forward to disappointing his kids. **

**He meandered into the kitchen, being sure to take his time doing so. "Hey guys," he started out, voice heavy with displeasure. "I've got some bad news."**

**Sylvia peered up at him from the kitchen floor, Molly bouncing excitedly in her lap. She caught on quickly to the distress in her father's voice, and how his eyes scoped over Molly unhappily. A sudden knot of dread formed in her chest, and she squeezed the small dog tighter to her chest, as if that would protect them both from the imminent bad news. **

**"You see," Dom started off, squatting down to look his children in the eyes. Suddenly, his eyes sparked with mischief – the same way Sylvia's and Bennie's sometimes did when they had something planned. "Your mother-"**

**He was interrupted by a sudden, sharp **_**smack!**_** across the back of his head. He ducked once, before turning his devious smile upwards, meeting Maria's disapproving gaze. "You see," Maria said, casting a caustic glare at Dom's smirking face. "If we keep Molly….she's going to need a bath!" **

**"A bath!" Bennie and Sylvia agreed enthusiastically. They hopped up from their perch on the kitchen floor and sprinted towards the back bathroom, with Molly yapping excitedly at their heels. Dom gave her a stunned look, eyebrows raised as he got to his feet.**

**"What?" Maria said indignantly, walking around him to follow her children to the bathtub. "I wasn't about to let you turn me into the bad guy. Besides," she continued, pausing at the bathroom door and gifting him with a coy smile. "The pound is already closed for the day. One night won't hurt."**

**Dom shook his head, amused, before following his family into the back bathroom. **_**When will I ever stop being surprised by her?**_** he wondered tenderly.**

**Bennie and Sylvia knelt beside the sparkling white tub, Bennie reaching around his younger sister to turn on the faucet. Molly hung back by the cabinet, suddenly looking unsure about her decision to follow the pair of children home. Maria slumped against the doorjamb, observing the chaos before her with a resigned sigh. **_**It's just a bathroom,**_** she patiently reminded herself. **_**It can be cleaned…**_

**Dom danced around Maria, shifting his way into the small room that was quickly becoming claustrophobic. "Alright, recruits, listen up!" he called Bennie and Sylvia to attention in a booming cadence, layering his hands behind his back like some grizzled old sergeant.**

**"Sir, yes, sir!" his children answered immediately. This was a game they had played often and for hours at a time. They loved playing 'army' with their father, and the fact he was still wearing his COG uniform only added to the façade.**

**Dom paced the small amount of room afforded to him, staring down his children. He had to bite down a grin at their attempt at being at 'attention', while they giggled and fidgeted by the bathtub. "Your mission," he barked out, "should you choose to accept it – which you will, because you have no other choice – is to **_**bathe this dog!**_**" He pointed assuredly at Molly, who was sniffing interestedly at his boots. "This mission is a matter of national importance, and your mother's sanity." **

**Maria snickered behind him and he felt her reach into the cabinet and pull something out. "Your weapons," he said pompously, reaching behind him. Maria placed a towel and a bottle of baby shampoo into his outstretched palm. "These are very dangerous and highly explosive – use them with caution."**

**He placed the bottle of shampoo into his son's outstretched hands as if he was passing off a live hand grenade. Sylvia cradled the soft, blue towel in her arm like she was holding a rifle. They pounced on Molly, lifting her up and over the lip of the bathtub. They drenched her with warm water, and scrubbed gobs of shampoo into her sopping wet fur. Molly stood stock still as the sudsy water dripped around her paws and down the drain.**

**As the dirt washed away from her, Sylvia was surprised to find that the dog wasn't brown and tan, as she had originally thought, but more tan and white. "Time to rinse!" Bennie said cheerfully, leaving his post by the bathtub to lean around his sister.**

**Molly, spying her one chance at escaping her indignity, dove for the hole Bennie left in his wake, hefting her wet paws up and over the rim of the bathtub. "Molly!" Sylvia screeched, jumping for her and missing. Bennie reached for her also, but ended up tripping over his sister and the pair went down in a pile of limbs and hollers. Dom dove for Molly, but ended up banging heads with Maria, who had also bent for the sudsy ball of fur. **

**"Get her!" Sylvia screeched, untangling herself from her brother. She leapt to her feet and lunged out the door, tripping her parents with her small body.**

**Maria sprawled her body against the bathroom door, diving out of the way as Bennie went rushing past. "We're going mission critical!" he hollered, running out of the wrecked bathroom.**

**What followed was nothing less than utter pandemonium. Molly raced from room to room, trailing a horde of yelling mothers, hollering fathers, and giggling children. She left a trail of soapy water everywhere she went, which caused everyone to slip and skid across the linoleum floors. Molly dove under the kitchen table and flew through the labyrinth of chair and table legs. The group separated, Maria and Dom taking the left while Sylvia and Bennie took to the right. **

**Molly paused under the table, utterly freaked out by the turn of events. She paced nervously around chair legs while the strange beings yelled loudly at her. Panting heavily, she searched for an escape. It came to her in the form of an opening door, just across the room. She bolted out from under the table, heading out at full speed towards the front door. **

**A dark form continued opening the door, releasing its' hold upon the doorknob as the sudsy pup ran through the door. "No!" Sylvia cried, reaching desperately from across the room, as if her foot long arms could miraculously stretch far enough to keep Molly from running out the door.**

**The stranger at the door quickly ducked down, snatching the dog before she could jump the doorjamb. He straightened up quickly, rising to his gigantic height. Molly accepted her fate, licking the face of her capturer. He gave her a disgruntled look, tilting his head, before she found the straps of his do-rag and began chewing on them.**

**"Uncle Marcus!" Bennie called, racing Sylvia to the door. Sylvia wrapped her tiny arms around his knees, grinning up at him. Bennie came to his side, admiring the COG armor – heavy with metal adornments.**

**"Uhh…" Marcus breathed, not exactly sure of his next move. He pulled away from the soapy dog chewing on his do-rag, who settled instead for lapping at his ear. **

**Maria had to stifle a laugh at Marcus' perplexed face. She'd hate for him to think she was laughing at him, instead of the idea of strong, impenetrable Marcus was suddenly covered with puppies and children. "Here," she said, tossing out a life preserver to him. She reached for Molly, holding the soapy dog at arm's length. **

**"Thanks," he said to her, retying his slobbery do-rag strings. He nodded once to Bennie and Sylvia, before gently tugging out of her grip. **

**Dom came up behind the trio, instantly picking up Sylvia and resting her against his hip. "Sup, Marcus?" he greeted his best friend. "You get the weekend off too?" **

**Marcus nodded once, adding a gravelly, "Yeah". **

**Dom didn't have to ask if he'd went and seen his father, Adam Fenix, yet. He knew what the answer would be. For the Fenixes, the least amount of interaction between the two was preferable. Dom didn't know how a family could function like that, with years passing before they spoke again, and, when they did, only mumbled pleasantries drifting between the two. Dom wondered, for the thousandth time, how something so important as family could come to mean almost nothing to someone; how parent and child could exist whilst ignoring one another. **

**Dom swore yet again that it would never happen to his family. **

**"Uncle Marcus!" Bennie called up to his gentle giant. "Come into the back yard! You gotta see the tree-house we've been building!" **

**Taking advantage of this reprieve from the awkward, the two adults followed the children back outside, leaving Maria with the dog. Marcus and Dom stayed close to the house, discussing the future of Pelruan while the youngsters argued and fought and played together in the back yard. **

**Finally, Sylvia coaxed her father and uncle into a game of hide-and-seek, with the stipulation that Dom be 'it' first. They flew through rounds of the game, trading off who hid and who sought. They were equally matched; the pair of gears having trouble finding hiding spots big enough to conceal their large frames, the children not adept at finding good spots to hide.**

**Finally, Sylvia found an excellent hiding spot, wedged between the wood pile and barn. She scrunched down, hiding from Dom, who was 'it' again. She stifled a giggle, wondering how long it would take him to find her.**

_**They'll never find me!**_** She thought victoriously. **_**They'll have to call out the neighbors, and the police, and the entire army before they find me here!**_** She almost crowed with self-satisfaction and pride, shifting her weight from one sneakered foot to the other.**

**She heard the muffled groans and cheers as first Bennie was found, and then Marcus. Sylvia smirked again, ignoring how the rough wood scratched her skin. She tried to pinpoint their locations in the yard by listening to the sound of footsteps on the lawn.**

**"Sylvie?" Dom's worried voice called out. **_**Nuh-uh!**_** Sylvia taunted to herself. **_**You're not going to catch me that easily! **_

**Time ticked on, the trio of boys still scouring the lawn. Finally Maria leaned out the kitchen window, calling them for supper. Sylvia heard Dom tell Bennie and Marcus to go on inside, that he'd continue looking. She frowned when the backdoor slammed shut. **

**Suddenly, this hiding place didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. She grew increasingly aware of how the wood of both the shed and the woodpile scratched at her skin on both sides. She had to use the restroom, and a drop of sweat dripped slowly between her shoulder blades. She listened as Dom looked around the yard again, before the back door slammed shut again.**

_**He left…**_**she thought uncertainly to herself. **_**He actually doesn't want to find me…**_**Her eyes flooded with tears, and she tried unsuccessfully to stop her lower lip from trembling. Suddenly, this game didn't seem so fun anymore. The sun was quickly setting behind the trees, taking with it the warmth of the day. She rose slowly to her feet, her legs protesting the movement after sitting still for so long. She wiped one dirty hand across her face, clearing her cheek of the first tears to fall.**

**"Sylvia," her father said in a deep, reassuring timber. She spun at the sound of his voice, seeing him standing tall on the other side of the woodshed. She stared at him for a second, clamping her teeth down onto her lower lip to keep it from trembling. For a split second, the bit of space between them seemed like an immeasurable gulf, one born out of her sadness and his fear. They stared at each other for the tiniest bit of time, before Dom took the first step, crossing the yard towards her. He pulled her into a hug without hesitation. In response, she immediately wrapped her small arms around his neck, burrowing her face – already rife with fresh tears – against his chest. **

**"Shh…" he quieted her, hugging her tighter. "Why didn't you come out when I called you?" he admonished her quietly. He felt her small, bony shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.**

**"I-I thought you stopped looking for me," she hiccupped. She was distraught in the reliant, contingent way little children had, looking for her parents to make the world perfect again. "I thought you didn't care."**

**He pulled her closer to him, stifling his laughter. "Baby girl, calm down." He smoothed her raven hair back from her damp face, cradling her head in his large, calloused hands. He gently tugged her face upwards until she made eyecontact with him. He rubbed his thumbs reassuringly across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. "I would never abandon you, okay? I will **_**always**_** protect you, and I will **_**always **_**bring you home, safe and sound."**

**Her glistening brown eyes – eyes the same color of his own – gazed back at him, before she finally cracked a small smile. "Okay," she agreed. **

**He picked her up, heading back towards the house. "I love you," he reminded her again.**

**She curled in against his chest, warm and comfortable in the protecting arms of her father. "I love you, too, daddy."**

* * *

I gasped for breath, still reeling from the strength of the memory. It had flashed through my mind in a second, but it felt more like an eternity. The sniper slumped from my arms, held in place only by the strap around my arm. My vision grew hazy and blurred with tears that I struggled to blink away. _Damn it…_ I thought to myself, letting my eyes sink shut. Suddenly, I was so sick of being here – in Nexus, hunting Delta, being in combat – that all I wanted was to return to my home in the Stranded camp, forgetting any of this ever happened. For a second, the desire was so strong that I almost turned away from the window and left Nexus, never to return to this wretched place. Instead, the Queen spoke again, anchoring me in place.

"There are still ways for us to sink Jacinto. You will perish, along with the Lambent." So I was right. The locusts _were_ focused on destroying Jacinto. They were going to flood the hollow, washing away the bedrock of support for Jacinto's very exsistence. I swallowed thickly against the horror, the thought of a new threat focusing my mind.

I almost jumped when Marcus' deep, gravelly voice came up from below. "Not if we sink it first," he threatened, and I watched as he took a menacing step towards the Queen. Marcus also looked unharmed, and a confusing tidal wave of relief and frustration ran through me.

_Come on!_ An evil voice whispered through my mind. _This is your chance! Pull the damn trigger and run!_ For a moment in time, the voice seemed to be preaching the reasonable truth. _After all,_ it continued, _'Life for a Life'. That's the motto, isn't it?_

"A life for a life," I whispered in agreement, gripping the sniper again. I swept the crosshairs across the room, resting on a familiar figure with raven hair. I froze as I was reaching for the trigger. Suddenly, all I wanted was to quit; just lay down my rifle, return home, and forget this entire day. All the twists and roundabouts through the last hell-packed day had left my nerves exposed and shell-shocked. Exhausted, I stared lazily at Dom through the scope, my finger barely resting on the trigger guard. "Turn around," I begged quietly, desperate for just a glimpse of the man I now knew as my father. "Please….just turn around."

"It no longer matters," the Queen said, echoing my thoughts. "Skorge – destroy them."

The Queen suddenly turned and ran from the room. Marcus whipped around to shoot at her, but was suddenly interrupted by an almost forgotten figure in the room – one I had not noticed before. He jumped from the back wall where his ornamental robes had blended in with the rough edges of the stone. He leapt into the middle of my four gears, growling menacingly at them.

"Baird, Cole!" Marcus barked out, backing away from the figure who I assumed was 'Skorge'. "After the Queen!"

All signs of apathy gone, I watched – thunderstruck - as Baird and Cole took after the Queen. Marcus fired a burst of rounds at Skorge to get his attention off of the fleeing figures. Skorge roared again in frustration, swinging a long, ornamental weapon that was little more than a bloodthirsty chainsaw at the tip of a long, metal handle.

Finally, Dom turned, just in time to see Skorge advancing upon him. In the split second afforded to me, I saw the shock and dread cross over his expression before it shifted to a grim acceptance of his fate. Beneath that, however, was the fatigue and crushed soul of a man who had lost everything. His brown eyes – eyes exactly like my own, I realized suddenly – were flat black. He looked haggard and drawn, as if all hope and reasoning and _faith_ had suddenly been sapped from his life. I didn't have to think at all to figure out why he felt like that. _Maria…_I realized suddenly.

Perhaps Maria had been my mother, but she had been Dom's _wife_. I could barely remember her, all the things that made her special. He probably couldn't get the memories out of his head. And if the only thing I could think of was him raising the gun to her forehead, I couldn't imagine how many times worse it would be for Dom.

I wasn't mad anymore. I couldn't be. There was no more room inside me for anything other than the crushing agony I felt.

I realized all of this is a sudden burst of clarity, but that was all I had time for. Skorge was still advancing upon Dom, swinging his weapon around for the finishing blow that would end his life. Marcus was yelling something, but there was no time for Dom to maneuver or escape. He was going to die here, even if it wasn't from my own hand.

A sudden, piercing shot rang out, breaking the chain on the huge, glass chandelier keeping watch over the room. If it wasn't for the sudden pressure on my shoulder, and the hot ejected brass sent sprawling from my rifle, I'd never know it was me who shot. Everyone – including Skorge and myself – brought our eyes up to the ceiling. Because of the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the thing almost seemed to fall in slow motion. It swayed once with the breaking chain, before plummeting towards the ground at a breakneck speed. Dom had just enough time to jump clear, but Skorge did not.

I almost dropped the rifle in shock of what I'd done. Instead of taking _his_ life, I ended up _saving _him. He rolled to his feet, bruised but alive. Skorge was still alive as well, howling wordlessly under the twisted remnants of glass and metal. Instinctively, my eyes flickered to the only other person left in the room – Marcus.

His glacier-blue eyes trailed the hidden balcony, looking for who had shot. He froze when our eyes met, and I wondered what he saw - a lonely, small girl who turned out to be the daughter of his best friend, or the dark, temperamental woman who had tried to kill them. I didn't look away, even as my vision blurred once again and a thick pain in my throat made it hard to swallow. He looked almost…_sympathetic_, for lack of a better word. Remorseful. Apologetic. I knew he_ knew_ what I'd had planned, and he knew that I was the one who saved him and his brother – my father.

Marcus gave me a single nod; acknowledging me, apologizing to me. That one action said it all – _I knew, and I'm sorry._ Our silent conversation gave Skorge the split-second he needed to get back to his feet. He brushed off the remnants of broken glass and metal, roaring before swinging his weapon at them threateningly.

"Marcus!" Dom bellowed, his voice echoing along with the burst of fire from his lancer. Marcus broke eye-contact, jumping in to provide backup. I pulled away from the window, unable to watch another minute. I shoved the longshot back across my shoulders, fighting the tears back. _So, I failed in this, too…_ a voice whispered sardonically to me, but for some reason I didn't feel like I had _failed. _Still, the pressure in my chest grew to an almost unbearable point. I tried to lesson it the only way I knew how – I _ran._

I needed to find an exit before I exploded. My breath came in a mixture of pants and sobs, and I felt betrayal bear down on my heart. I was lost, not just in Nexus, but in _myself._ I finally knew the truth, but now I had no idea _who_ _I_ _was_.

Nexus wasn't the place to try and find out.

I raced back through the science labs, Sam keeping pace with my heels. The same screen flashed through its simulation, bringing its foreboding warning of Jacinto's end. It was just one more reminder of how bad this day was – and getting worse by the second. Some instinct made me take the stairs up to the top of the palace - up, and hopefully through some sort of opening to the real world, because none of this could be real.

The last flight of stairs left me in a dark, open floor. I searched in vain for an exit, finding none. "Damn it!" I swore loudly, my voice piercing the suffocating silence. A sudden burst of noise from the other end of the hall bought my attention. I waited for grubs, or gears, or those weird glowing forms to come stampeding out, but none did. At this point, I wasn't sure if that was a relief or not. I swung my lancer around to face front before taking off at a beeline for the other side of the hall.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it damn sure wasn't what I got. It almost looked like a barn, except instead of livestock, there were _reavers._

Dozens of the damn things, proportionally stalled and parked in little rooms like horses. My gut instinct was to raise my rifle, but none of them even _looked _like they were thinking about attacking. The nearest one watched me curiously with its dozen eyes, but didn't make a move. A few snuffled what looked like food or water buckets, some slept upon theie eight legs – legs that looked like tails as they flew through the air.

_Flying…_ I realized suddenly, taking another look at the almost docile reavers. They looked so fearsome and aggressive while in battle, it was almost otherworldly to see them behaving otherwise. "Sam," I addressed her, speaking softly as to not frighten her nor the reaver next to us. "I believe we just found our way out."

Taking a handful of what looked like food from a nearby bucket, I held it out as a peace-offering to the curious reaver in front of us. It snorted at me, but that was it. "Hey," I whispered reassuringly to it, keeping my steps slow and measured. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want a ride, okay?" One of its' eight legs backed up slightly, but then it stayed still. I realized the food was a stupid idea when I couldn't find a discernible mouth. I lightly tossed the handful of green, mossy food on to the ground in front of it. The reaver eyed it warily, before hesitantly lowering itself to the ground. A orifice under its' chin opened up, devouring the meager snack.

"There," I whispered reassuringly to it. "See? We can get along." I crept my way closer to the reaver, muttering inconsequential nothings to it, trying to keep it calm. It laid on the ground as I got closer, allowing for easy climbing. Sam was much harder to convince. She was growling low in her throat, not coming within a dozen feet of the reaver. "Sam," I sing-songed to her, trying to get her attention focused on me, and not the reaver I was climbing atop of. "It's okay, Sam. See? I'm perfectly safe."

Sam didn't look convinced as she ducked her head and took a few hesitant paces closer. I gently reached out and took a coil of rope that was hanging off the side of the reaver, attached to one of the numerous armor plates. The large reaver snorted again, but didn't move away as Sam slowly crept to my side. Opening my mouth, I started singing a barely-remembered ballad that Ace had taught me years ago, the poignant notes echoing slightly off the stall doors. The reaver rested heavily on the ground, settling onto the door floors and giving me easier access to its' back.

I reached into my pack and pulled out the last piece of jerky from so long ago. I held it out invitingly to Sam, trying to lure her closer to me. She took a few more, hesitant steps until she was standing side-by-side with the reaver. I patted the hard leather seat, inviting Sam to hop on top. She gave me a frustrated look before leaping atop the saddle.

We both froze, waiting to see what the reaver would do. It sniffed the ground thoughtfully, but otherwise didn't react. "Alright," I hummed tunelessly, finally running out of lyrics. Gripping the saddle's horn, I pulled myself up. Sam sat in front of me, giving me a slightly reproachful look. "I know," I whispered to her, pulling the coil of rope apart, and creating a makeshift harness for her. I wrapped it under her shoulders, and tied it just tight enough so she wouldn't slide out. _Now what? _I thought to myself, looking for a place to secure her.

At the rear of the armor plating, there was a deep, covered hole. I assumed it was used for transporting equipment, but it would work perfectly for transporting Sam. I gave her a light push into the cave-like opening, pulling on her harness to tie in securely against a metal ring at the very back. I had to crawl in after her, trying to remember that the dark, creepy hole was only a _temporary_ problem. I felt blindly for the metal ring, concentrating on tying the rope into a secure knot so Sam wouldn't fall while we were – hopefully – flying through the air.

The reaver jolted underneath us, then shuddered violently as someone _else_ climbed atop the reaver. _Shit!_ I thought, clasping a hand over Sam's muzzle to keep her quiet. "Let's go!" an all too familiar – and all too _frustrating_ – voice commanded. The reaver rose to its' feet, my heart pounding in my chest as the world jolted with the movement.

Giving Sam a squeeze to remind her to stay silent, I attempted to rotate in the small space afforded to me. My boots scraped the sides of the metal cage as I faced front. Right in front of me was the locust Queen, reigns in hand. The entire world rolled and pitched as the reaver took flight.

The familiar burst of lancer fire followed us as Cole yelled at the Queen. "Take that, bitch!" he called, and the burst of fire _tinged_ off the side of the armor plating. Cole and Baird had no idea that I was aboard the reaver; they had just been following the Queen, trying to stop her escaping. They were still under Marcus' orders to stop the Queen.

Waiting for them to reload, I quickly stuck my sweaty head out of the carriage back. "Stop!" I mouthed to them, watching as their jaws dropped in shock. Baird – who had his rifle still raised to shoot at the queen – dropped his lancer to the side and stared at me incredulously. It was then I realized I had no idea what Marcus had told them to explain my absence, or if he had given them orders to shoot me on sight after guessing at my plan to kill Dom.

"_Bri?"_ he called, looking completely lost. I sent him a look that clearly said, '_Yes, it's me, you idiot, now stop shooting!'_ With every second the reaver gained altitude and speed. I did _not_ want to find out what would happen if someone – say, the driver or the reaver – suddenly took a bullet to the head. I had a feeling it wouldn't end well for me, or Sam.

I shot one last, panicked look Cole's way, before stuffing myself back into the storage space. The last thing I needed was to be discovered by the queen as a little hitch-hiker. _Crap, crap, crap, crap…_I thought to myself, trying to find a way to escape before the Queen noticed me. Of course, any chances of escape severely lessened as the Queen exited through a dark tunnel – no doubt built specifically for reavers coming and going. We exited the tunnel with a blast of fresh air and sunlight.

_Sunlight? _I thought, panicked. No longer in Nexus, we were now circling around Mount Kadar. I could even see the tiny circle that was the Stranded camp. The reaver banked in a circle while freezing wind batted my face. Fully expecting to die in the Locust city, being back outside was more than a bit disconcerting. Sam gave an uneasy whine low in her throat, so I tossed my arms around her in a bone-crushing hug. I wasn't sure who needed the support more.

_Okay, _I thought to myself as acres of trees flashed quickly below. _When asking yourself if things could get worse, the answer is __always__ yes._

Just as the thought went through my mind, we took an abrupt left turn. Slowing down drastically, the reaver suddenly dropped a few feet as yet _another_ rider jumped aboard. As we took off again at full speed, I spied another tunnel like the one we had flown out of. I examined the ornate robes, mentally comparing them with every grub I'd ever seen. He looked familiar, I just couldn't place him…

Evidently, Sam recognized him immediately. She growled – a deep, warning pitch – and the new rider turned around abruptly. He spotted us straight away, without so much as a gasp of surprise. He hissed at me and swung around his extended chainsaw.

_Skorge._

I exploded out of the storage space, bringing my lancer around with the chainsaw screaming. I rolled as he swung at me, grabbing hold of the saddle to keep me from flying off the reaver's wide back. The Queen was shouting something at Skorge – probably telling him to hurry up and kill me – but I ignored her as I leapt back up to my feet.

He snarled at me, taking a massive step in my direction and swinging again. I tried rolling again, but this time I wasn't so lucky. The vicious teeth of his chainsaw swung into my leg, carving out a small piece of my thigh. Blood quickly welled up from the wound, staining my cargos a thick black.

I cried out with pain, my left hand immediately going to my thigh in an attempt to dam the flow of blood. Skorge loomed ominously above me as the cold wind whipped my hair and face. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was _laughing._ I attempted to stand, but razor-sharp flashes of pain raced up my leg. In desperation, I looked to the only other human aboard the reaver – the Queen. She was watching me, her cold eyes analyzing my reactions to the pain. Her mouth opened to deliver the last words I would ever hear.

"Kill her."

Skorge took another step forward, lifting his weapon to deliver the final blow. My lancer had fallen away in the attack and was now resting precariously against an armor plate half a dozen feet away. In desperation, I reached for my sidearm, yanking it out of my holster and pointing it at him. Before I could squeeze a round off, he kicked my arm to the side, his wide boot stepping on my wrist. I was still struggling to get away as he brought down his arms to deliver the killing blow.

A sharp snarl bought his attention as one huge, angry, German shepherd lunged out of the storage space, teeth bared. Her jaws and teeth snapped wildly, causing Skorge to take a few steps back out of surprise. I rolled to the other side of the reaver's back, reaching for my lancer. "Sam!" I yelled. "Get back!" I slammed my pistol back inside its' holster as my hands found their places on the lancer.

Because of the thick rope harness, her movements were impeded, and she couldn't quite reach Skorge when he retreated to the other side of the reaver. However, she was in my arc of fire. I tried to get up to my knees, but a flame of pain ignited my thigh. I was still struggling to lift the heavy lancer when Skorge swung his chainsaw at Sam.

He missed her body, but the chainsaw cut easily through the rope harness holding her aboard the reaver. The Queen – who was still flying the reaver – yanked the reigns to the left. The reaver pitched to the right, throwing us all off balance – including Sam. Skorge and I compensated for the twisting world by grabbing a hold of something - a piece of saddle, a plate of armor - but Sam didn't have that luxury. Her paws scrambled for purchase on the slick armor plating, but found none. Claws spread wide and eyes panicked, she tumbled over the side of the reaver with one last, echoing howl.

"_Sam!"_ I screamed, unable or _unwilling_ to believe what my eyes were telling me. Adrenaline suddenly taking care of the pain in my thigh, I stared at the site she had gone overboard, willing her to crawl back aboard. I half-limped, half-crawled my way across the reaver's back, staring down as trees and the side of Mount Kadar flashed beneath us, with no sign of Sam.

Skorge, who had taken advantage of my diversion over Sam, swung his blade at me again. I skittered backwards just in time to see his blade swing past right where my neck had been. He didn't wait for me to regain focus before swinging again, and again, and again. I was suddenly on the defensive, just trying to avoid his deathly blows. He swung out again just as the Queen jerked the reigns to the right.

I dropped the Lancer as my hands struggled to find purchase against the smooth armor. I slid across the reaver's back, finally catching hold of one leg that blew gracefully in the wind. I bounced up and down as the leg-tail floundered with flight. Skorge's face twisted into a horrific grin as he brought his chainsaw down one last time, slicing the reaver's leg neatly in two.

The reaver bucked in pain and agitation, its legs kicking angrily in the wind. I reached out for another handhold, but its' legs escaped my reach. The reaver kept flying horizontally, as I was suddenly falling vertically towards the ground.

Free-falling through open air was a unique experience. It was terrifying, exhilarating, freeing, but you couldn't enjoy it because you knew that at any second you would hit the ground and die. I twisted in the air, reaching vainly for…what, I had no clue. My limbs flailed in panic as the cold wind battered my clothes and hair. The adrenaline was numbing the pain in my leg, so for a brief moment of time, it was like floating across a panic-filled dream.

Then I hit the first tree.

I crashed through the canopy branches with enough force to break ribs. Luckily, the thin, upper-crust branches were small enough to break upon impact. They slowed me down, without killing me straight away. Then came the bigger branches, the ones as thick as my arm. _Those_ didn't break as easily. Instead, they felt like they were breaking _me_, breaking every bone in my body as I slammed into groups of them at a time.

_Crack._ My ribs suddenly felt like they were on fire. _Bang!_ My elbow and forearm were now numb with pain. _Slam!_ I didn't really need my left calf, did I?

Despite being thrown around like a human pin-ball, I was still scrambling to find a handhold, find _anything_ that would slow my fall. My hands scraped across dozens of branches, receiving friction-burns from the prickly bark. I twisted again, so now I was falling face-up. My right fist came away with a handful of leaves as my head slammed against another – much thicker – branch.

The pain ballooned from the back of my skull, overshadowing everything else. My vision blurred around the edges as a ringing noise over took any other sound in the woods. One last, long drop and I fell to the frozen ground.

I didn't – couldn't – move, even if I wanted to. The forest floor cradled me in a cocoon of frozen grass and rotting leaves. Filtered rays of sunlight crept through the acre of broken branches and tree limbs above me. I knew it was freezing – the small patches of snow on the ground attested to that – but I didn't feel cold. I didn't feel anything, even though I knew my entire body had to be covered with scratches and bruises, and the wound on my thigh was still weeping blood.

_Sam…_a part of my brain whispered idly, and for a brief moment in time I wondered where she was, and if she was alive. Then my mind flipped to another thought, one of Skorge. Before our fight on the reaver, he had been fighting Dom and Marcus. I wondered how he managed to escape the two gears. The obvious answer – that Skorge had killed Dom and Marcus – didn't occur to me until far too late. The thought of their deaths filled me with some kind of emotion that remotely resembled sadness. _So they died anyway…_

My thoughts flew away from me as if my mind was a sieve, and I didn't fight it. Perhaps it was better this way – at least here, alone in the forest, I couldn't hurt anyone I loved. I was tired of fighting, tired of the endless pain, horror, and death. Here, at least, it was quiet. It was peaceful.

My muscles started shivering against the cold, but I still didn't attempt to move for shelter. Soft, frozen crystals of ice fell from the sky, resting gently against my skin. _Snow…_the word jumped through my mind and then faded away again, just as every other thought did. The beautiful image of frozen crystals decorating my body was the last thing I saw before everything faded to a deep, blissful black.

* * *

**Author's Note – Erm…did somebody request a long chapter? **

**Okay, so I'm really sorry this took forever to get out, but this did take forever to write, and finals are never a good time of year for fan-fiction. Plus, the next chapter is going to be just as long as this – maybe even longer! After all, the absolute total destruction of a major city takes some word-count.**

**Huge thanks to rockforthecross74 for beta-reading this monster of a chapter!**

**I've also started a new Gears fanfic, entitled 'The Blood of Innocence'. The summary is: **_**The heart of a killer is a hard one. After brutally murdering three of the COG's most prized doctors, Clarissa Rogers is thrown in The Slab to rot along with the effluent of humanity. Fighting to survive with the worst of the worst, she struggles to untangle the woven threads of her past, and the mystery of her imprisonment. **_

**There's plenty of Marcus in the story, plus I'm addressing some very important aspects of the COG that Karen Travis and Epic Games keep pushing towards the backs. (I think I'd be a Stranded, if I ever lived on Sera….) And if any of you have read the new book, The Slab, you'll see some familiar names in there! **

*****Warning: Fan-Girl Moment Ahead*** Gears of War: Judgment! New Characters! More Baird! *Dies happily***

***Fan-Girl Moment Over* So don't forget to feed the muse on your way out! You wouldn't leave a restaurant without tipping your waitress – why would you leave a story without tipping the writer? Plus, I'll send you a preview of the next chapter! :D So tell me, if you lived on Sera, who would you align with – the COG, the Stranded, or the Locust?**


	16. UnderEquipped, Underestimated

Jacinto Military Base

Eight years after E-day

_Sylvia would be what, fourteen or fifteen now? I'd be worrying about her dating boys. I got Maria pregnant at sixteen. Yeah, I'd be a real overprotective dad…_

_-Dominic Santiago's thoughts ten years after the death of his children._

"_**Brianna!"**_** Ace's voice thundered down the hallway, practically shaking the very walls. Bri flinched in response**** and sat bolt upright upon her cot in the abandoned storage room, where she had been enjoying the adrenaline buzz from her latest accomplishment.**

"**Oh…**_**shit…**_**" Bri hissed under her breath_,_ swinging her legs off the cot and standing. Her 'room' was little more than an outdated supply closet**** where Ace had commandeered a cot for her to sleep on. The rickety bed overtook almost all of the free space, making the room feel small and claustrophobic. Bri had nearly had a heart attack the first night she spent there, but it was amazing what a person could get used to when forcing themselves to face their fears.**

**She briefly considered not answering, but she figured he would probably come in after her. Breathing a sigh, she hefted herself to her feet and opened the door to a fuming Ace.**

**She blinked against the bright light cascading in from the hallway, resting one hand on the door and one on her hip. Her eyes widened innocently as she looked at Ace. His arms were above his head, braced against the door frame. He was breathing heavily in agitation, while his usually smiling face was contorted into an uncomfortable snarl.**

**"Hello, Ace," Bri greeted him harmlessly, tilting her head to the side as if she was confused. "Can I help you with something?" **_  
_

**He glared down at her, breathing heavily. Ace opened his mouth to say something**** but promptly closed it again;**** evidently too angry to speak. She cocked an eyebrow, bracing herself for the moment when he finally composed himself. He glared at her a second longer, before taking a calming breath and starting over.**

"**Do you know what report has been flooding command **_**all day long?**_**" he asked, anger boiling just under the surface.**

**Bri's lips trembled, fighting a smile, before she knitted her eyebrows together in mock confusion. "I have no idea. I've been here all day long."**

"**Then let me inform you." His voice was tight, and his hands were fisted so his knuckles popped out in white bumps. "Apparently, there have been a number of reports made by gears **_**insisting**_ **that there are apples growing on the oak trees." Ace's eyebrows hung dangerously low over his hazel eyes. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you?"**

"**Of course not!" she protested, stealthily crossing her fingers behind her back. Her lips trembled with mirth, fighting a smile.**

**Ace didn't share her delight as he pursed his lips. "It seems that they were tied on with wire," he explained.**

**Bri's mouth formed a small 'o'**** as she nodded with sudden clarity. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light with barely-contained amusement. They stared at each other in silence, communicating in that** **strange, unspoken language that only they could understand. It was a form of contact that transcended simple words. A quick tightening of the lips, a quirk of an eyebrow, or a slight narrowing of the eyes told the other everything. To an outsider, it would appear as if nothing was happening, but something deep and subliminal was always being communicated between the two.**

"**Two weeks," was all he said, finally breaking the silence and cocking an eyebrow as if he expected a fight.**

**Bri's jaw dropped in surprise and annoyance. "Two ****_weeks?_****" she exclaimed, all hints of amusement gone from her face. "Oh, come on! I only got a week for flipping the men and women signs on the bathrooms!"**

**This time it was **_**Ace's**_ **face that threatened to split into a grin. "And you're just lucky I found out about that before the Colonel or somebody walked into the women's bathroom!" He rolled his eyes, going back to the reason for her punishment. "Seriously, Bri? Apples on oak trees? You couldn't come up with something more…original?"**

**Bri rested her hip on the doorjamb, crossing her arms in front of her protectively. "It was better than anything Jace came up with. Of course, bouillon cubes in the shower heads **_**is **_**something I'll have to try…" she trailed off, as if remembering just who it was she was speaking to.**

**In the few months that Bri had lived on base with Ace and the rest of the gears, she had come into the habit of playing harmless practical jokes on the soldiers. She had given up her previous vices of smoking, drinking, and hanging out with gang members; seemingly having traded them for the gags. Ace was always quick to find out about her schemes, and over time, it had become sort of a race for them. She'd try to come up with new and original pranks and see if she could bring them into fruition while Ace struggled to stay one step ahead of her. The gears on base – the few who knew Bri by name – enjoyed watching the two of them struggle for power in** **their strange, twisted game. ****The few who were the victims of the pranks grouched good-naturedly while harmless bystanders laughed and even placed bets on what Bri's next prank would be – and what Ace's punishment would be.**

**Ace shook his head, stepping away from the door. "Go ahead, try it," he goaded her. "I hear there's a new latrine that needs**** dug on the other side of town…"**

"**Yeah, yeah," Bri groused unhappily. She stooped at the waist, picking up a toilet scrubber that had become a permanent fixture in her room. When Ace said 'two weeks' he'd actually meant two weeks on bathroom duty. For the next fourteen days – before and after school – she'd be cleaning the bathrooms on base. She didn't mind it as much as she made it seem, finding Ace's 'punishments' fair trade for food, shelter, and a bit of fun.**

**She pushed past Ace and gave him a sour glare as she headed for the nearest restroom. Despite all the pranks she enjoyed pulling around base, she'd never do anything so dramatic as to get her kicked out. The last few months living with Ace had been the best of her life. She had sprouted a few inches – both vertically and horizontally. The extra weight looked good on her, seeing as she was much too skinny to begin with. Her bruises had healed and faded, leaving behind only faint scars that were hard to see from a distance. Bane was just a bad memory now and not a living nightmare for her. She found herself laughing and smiling often - on and off base.**

**For the first time she could remember her heart was full and her life wasn't empty. Barring any horrible situations, she could happily spend the rest of her life right there with Ace. She'd become a Gear and go on missions, become close friends with her squad, balance her time between combat and friends. Jacinto's military base would truly become her home, giving her the life she could only dream about before…**

**Mentally shaking herself, she warned herself yet again that this all could be taken from her in the next hour. Despite her absolute joy in her life, there was a part of her that was never quite comfortable in the base. Maybe it was leftover mental scars from her past life with Bane, but she was always watching, always waiting for…****_something_****. Her happiness was a diaphanous bubble; see-through and fragile. All it took was one officer demanding her off-base, one patrol that Ace didn't return from, one nightmare from her past to show up and drag her off…**

**She still hadn't told Ace the entire story of her past with Bane. Every time he brought it up she'd shut down, becoming hostile if he insisted on pushing the issue. It was the only thing that came between them, and sometimes the friction of her silence grated upon their friendship. She didn't know why she didn't tell him – he'd obviously seen the bruises and scars Bane had left her with – but it felt to her that if she told him, opened up and let him see her for everything she was, that he might detest what he saw. She couldn't stomach that, couldn't stomach Ace's smiling face contorted into disgust and loathing.**

**Her thoughts – both of the good and bad – swirled around her mind as she worked. Finally, when the sun sank low in the dirty windows and her fingers were raw from the carbonate soap she'd used, she called it quits. She rinsed the soap residue off of her fingers and stuffed the cleaning supplies in a back corner for her to find tomorrow. She headed off for the cafeteria, where she** **instinctively knew she'd find Ace.**

**The chef on duty gave her a wide smile as she propped up her tray for her serving of dinner. He gave her a light lecture about the apples-on-oak-trees prank, but he winked when he finished. Even the kitchen staff enjoyed her presence on base. They awarded her with treats and such, often doubling whatever scarce sweets they could come up with. Tonight, it was a baked apple crisp with little seasoning. She smirked to herself when the chef piled up the sliced apples onto her tray. It seemed the apples used for her prank would not go unused.**

**She found Ace at their usual table in the back of the cafeteria. It had steadily become crowded over the past few months, with gears piling up at the poor table. Every seat was filled, with some gears sitting on pulled-up chairs or leaning against the wall. There was only one empty space, and that was the chair beside Ace. That was Bri's spot – as it would always be her place by him. Her tray barely made a dent in the noise when it hit the table.**

**Nodding a hello to Ace, her attention was captured by Ian – a young gear who was currently juggling three bright red apples. "You see, Bri," he said, quickly become the center of attention, "The apple trick was a bit **_**too**_ **obvious."**

**Bri, taking a bite of her dinner, swallowed her amusement. This was another part of the prank 'ritual'. The gears she had befriended always discussed her gags, telling her what she'd done wrong and what she could do to improve upon them. After the discussion there would be a** **judging session where the gears would award her a score of one to ten, depending on how well her practical jokes had been executed. "Okay, Ian," she said light-heartedly. "Pray tell, how could I have improved upon _that_ little gem of genius?"**

**Ian, tossing the apples in the air and catching them, pointed knowingly at her. "Come on, you had to know that every gear who walked through the front yard was going to see them!"**

**Aaron gave him a look. "Wasn't that the point? What good is a practical joke if no one sees it?"**

"**No! See, everyone saw it, they laughed, and now all the apples are down, right?" Bri just shrugged, having not had the chance to return to the scene of the crime. "You should have hid them in strategic places all around base! You know, in lockers, in showers…"**

"**Mix some in with the grenades in the armory," Aaron added, catching Ian's drift.**

"**Maybe hang a few off of the Chairman's statue in the courtyard," Mason added. He got a mischievous smirk on his face. "You know, finally give ol' Prescott a pair of-"**

"**All right," Ace interrupted him,** **trying to keep the Gears' language clean around Bri. Everyone understood where Mason was going with that statement and erupted into boisterous laughter. The group continued to dissect**** Bri's latest prank as she finished eating, giving and deducting points off of her total score. When her tray lay mostly empty and the cafeteria had all but cleared out, the group of gears had finally settled upon a cumulative score of 'seven'.**

**Bri found her eyes grow heavy and she leaned against Ace's warm frame as the hours ticked by. The gears relished the time to sit around and shoot the bull, and probably wouldn't retire until the wee hours of the morning. Bri knew that Ace would soon send her off to bed, which she would protest vehemently before admitting defeat and retreating to her room. Still, she enjoyed listening to the close-knit group trade stories and barbs as the night dragged on.**

**Just as the conversation reached a lull and Ace shifted in his seat – preparing to send her off – something caught Bri's attention. A small group of people – some wearing rag-tag COG armor, others just wearing civilian attire – entered the cafeteria cautiously. They peered around distrustingly**,** eyes never resting too long upon any one thing. Sticking close to one another, they headed uncertainly for the cafeteria line where the chefs were still at work. There was no telling when Gears would come in after patrols or missions so the cafeteria was open all day and night. Still, the chefs didn't look happy seeing the small group.**

"**Ace," Bri murmured, never taking her eyes off the group. "Who are they?"**

**Ace didn't have to look hard to find who she was referring to. "They're Stranded. Well, they used to be Stranded. They're all part of Prescott's Operation Lifeboat. Stranded sign up for military service, and in return their families receive COG citizenship." His voice wasn't disapproving, exactly, but he had heard stories about some Lifeboaters. All Gears had. It was another societal norm that had sprung up after the firing of the Hammer of Dawn. There were always two opinions of the Stranded, depending on who you talked to. Some thought that the Stranded were an unfortunate side effect of the Hammer Strikes. Many believed that the Stranded were a blight upon humanity. Stranded looted and stole from the COG, threw stones at passing 'Dills and APC's, and refused to join the Coalition. Ace never had any reason to hate the Stranded, and saw them as unfortunate bastards who had been betrayed by a government who'd sworn to protect them and ended up burning the entire world** **instead.**

**No, Ace could never bring himself to hate someone because of their unfortunate circumstances, even if those people cursed everything he stood for.**

**Bri stared unabashedly at the group, not caring about proper decorum. It was the first time she'd ever come face-to-face with the Stranded. She'd heard horror stories about them, but had never met them. To her, they just looked like half the scared civilians she'd seen on the streets. One small family caught her eyes – a man and his twin daughters. The man wore a moth-eaten, filthy hat with sweat stains around the brim. He had a full beard that was turning to a peppery grey, and the plates of his armor were covered in scratches and dings. His two daughters had dark red hair sloppily tied into braids. It was something in the way they moved – how the father gently rested his hand upon the girl's back; the way the girls stared up at him with unabashed trust; how they stuck close together while they moved through the cafeteria. For some strange reason, she felt jealousy rise in her throat like acid. She wondered how it felt to have someone like that, someone who would never leave her side.**

**Shifting away, she decided she already did – she had Ace. As long as he was by her side, she could take on the world, Locust and all.**

* * *

The pounding in my head let me know I was still alive.

Rising back to consciousness was like swimming through very thick water, or maybe tar. I couldn't move, could barely think. My body felt weighted and sluggish as I struggled to open my eyes. I knew the pain was coming – I could feel it building within my body, neurotransmitters preparing to send lightning bolts of agony through my nerves and around my brain. I fought the slow rise of my consciousness to its' wakeful state, silently willing myself to drift back into the darkness where agony nor sadness dared exist. Why should I attempt to return to reality, when all it had ever brought me was pain? Floating through the dark waters of unconsciousness, it was as if I could pretend none of it had ever happened; pretend my life didn't hurt as much as it did.

There was a part of me, and I wasn't sure how big that part was, that didn't want to wake at all. I could see the appeal of hiding away, laying low until the environment was friendlier to emerge. I still had to deal with the revelation of my parentage, with Marcus' betrayal, Jacinto…it was all too much, too much to deal with all at once. All that, and I didn't even know who was alive and who was dead. If I had to find out…it might just break me.

Through the murky depths, a single thought struggled through the darkness, fighting for acknowledgement. It was persistent, even when I tried to push it back against the thick noise in my skull, back to where I wouldn't have to focus on it. Something that doggedly demanded my attention, that wouldn't be pushed down with the rest of my meaningless thoughts. Something…._something_…

_Sam._

With a gasp my eyes flew open, barely having time to register the frozen forest around me before the pain hit. Absolute, agonizing pain that ripped through every inch of my body and wrenched my breath from my chest. There was a heavy, pressing weight against my lungs, forcing me to fight for each breath. It was similar to the time I had a punctured lung, and for a second panic raced through me. If it _was_ a punctured lung, there was no way I would survive this far from help.

As I tried once more to sit up, I slowly became aware of hot, heavy pants in my face. It took a second for my eyes to focus, but when they did I was greeted by the lopsided, grinning face of Sam. She was lying across my chest, keeping me warm with her furry body. When she saw me looking at her, she stretched her neck out further and began laving the side of my face with her tongue, welcoming me back to reality.

"Hey, girl…" I whispered weakly, raising a limp hand and settling it against her neck. Her fur stuck to my hand, held fast by blood. At first, I wasn't sure if it was hers or mine, but upon further investigation I figured it was a mixture of both. She was happy to see me, but beneath that I could see the pain in her eyes. In spots her fur was black with blood, stained by invisible wounds. She whimpered as I passed a hand over a particularly bloody area, and she recoiled from my touch. She whined again, giving me a slightly reproachful look.

"I'm sorry," I croaked out, my voice startling as it broke through the silence of the woods. I attempted to sit up, and let out an involuntarily grunt of pain as a lightning bolt of agony flashed through my abdomen. My breath seized in my chest as I froze in place. _Breathe…_Ace's voice commanded me, like he had so many years ago. _Don't fight the pain, that'll just make it worse. Breathe like you're blowing it away._

I attempted to follow his advice, taking short, staccato breaths that felt like a sniper's recoil in my chest. When the pain finally ebbed away slightly I let out a cautious, deep breath. "Okay," I spat, feeling the need to speak to myself in order to stave off the deafening silence of the forest. "Definitely a bruised rib. What else?"

Numerous lesions on my arms, and a lot more tears in my jacket and pants, but those could be fixed later. I raised a hand to my forehead and my fingers came back slicked with blood. Fortunately, nothing appeared broken. I almost attempted to stand, when a vicious blood stain on my thigh caught my attention.

The fight with Skorge came rushing back in almost perfect clarity, including the time Skorge's chainsaw bit down into my leg. The wound now pulsed arrogantly, as if to make up for the time my attention had been drawn away. The edges of my cargos were soaked through, with random threads of fabric spreading haphazardly away from the entry site. I gingerly plucked the edges of fabric from my pants away from the wound, wincing when it pulled the tender flesh the wrong way.

It wasn't as bad as I initially thought, but it was still pretty bad. Bits of flesh hung off of my leg in bloody clumps, with the skin around it loosely attached. It stung like hell but it wouldn't stop me from walking.

I reached inside my pack – still clinging to my body by its strap – and pulled out theonly other shirt I owned. It was clumped into a ball, slightly damp, and smelled like a mixture of old eggs and mildew. It took me a second to figure out why; it was the shirt I had washed after falling into the pit of vomit. My eyes stung for a second with the memory of Cole's worried face staring down at me, of Baird looking fucking _fantastic_ booting in the bathroom door and coming to my rescue, of Dom and Marcus' worried face when the saw me after. I paused, feeling worry and panic close over my heart mixed with the same confusing feelings of anger and betrayal I got every time I thought about them. Were they still alive? Where were they? Did I care? Did they care about me?

I gritted my teeth and turned back to the task at hand. Tearing the shirt into strips with my teeth, I focused on wrapping my leg with the makeshift bandages. Any more advanced treatments would have to wait. Before attempting to stand, I turned to Sam and tried to assess her injuries. "Come here, sweetheart," I said softly, remembering why she had fallen off the reaver in the first place. She had been trying to save me, and it was my fault for getting her hurt. It was all my fault. Regret tugged at my heartstrings; Sam deserved better than me.

She nuzzled my face softly and whimpered. I smiled slightly before feeling my way down her body, searching for grievous injuries. She growled when I got to her left paw, and I saw why. Her paw was split open, with one of the pads of her toe ripped clean off. "Oh, _Sam…_" I hissed in sympathy, reaching for the remnants of my shirt to bandage her paw. For the first time, I berated myself for not carrying more medical equipment. My wounds didn't bother me so much, but I wanted to do more for Sam.

She started to chew the make-shift bandages, but stopped when I gave her a firm "No!" Now, I had to stand up. I braced myself for more pain before shifting my legs under me. My thigh protested slightly, but I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore it as much as possible. I heaved myself to my feet, grunting as my abdomen flared up again. I almost fell back to my knees, but I grabbed my sniper and used it as a hiking stick to hold myself up. Which reminded me – where the hell had my lancer gone?

I looked around the small clearing at my feet, finally noting the ankle-deep layer of snow. Sam lying on top of me was probably the only thing that stopped me from getting hypothermia or frostbite**.** I could see hundreds of broken branches around me from where I crashed through the branches, but no lancer. Mind working sluggishly, I finally lifted my gaze sky-ward.

My lancer was stuck in a tree.

"Oh, COME ON!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, feeling unbridled anger rise in my chest. Was this not enough? Now the Gods of the universe just _had_ to add insult to injury and dangle my gun just out of reach. My frustration boiling over, I suddenly reached to the ground and snatched up a handful of sticks. I threw them with all of my strength at the dangling lancer, punctuating each word with a swing of my arm. "You! Stupid! Piece! Of - argh!" I growled in frustration, having run out of things to throw. Panting with anger, I stopped just short of kicking the thick trunk with my foot, figuring I already had enough injuries for one day.

I glared at the lancer for a second more, somehow comparing its retrieval with everything that had gone wrong in my life. Every time I thought I had garnered a foothold, some other stupid situation came along just to screw me up. Well…fine. I'd show it. I straightened up and tightened my pack and sniper's straps across my back, preparing to climb the tree. I leapt for a lower branch, catching one and promptly letting ago as it bit into my hands. "Friggin' **o**_**uch**__!_" I bellowed, shaking out the fire in my hands. I stared at the palms of my hands in shock, finding them red and angry with friction burns. It took me a second, but I realized they were also from my fall.

I would _not _be deterred by a friggin' _tree_. "Alright, fine," I snapped, reaching back into my pack for the remnants of my shirt. I'd never be able to wear it again anyway, so I might as well use the last of it. I used my teeth to tear it into two separate pieces, and then wrapped them around my hands. Tucking the ends under so they'd stay in place, I flexed my fists experimentally. _Better_.

I tried it again, catching the lowest limb in the palms of my hands. It still stung, but at least the pain didn't immediately make me let go. Placing my boots against the tree trunk, I struggled higher, reaching for another branch. I managed to get my legs swung around my initial branch, my injured thigh protesting loudly. Working my way up, I finally got to where my lancer was snagged by tree limbs. I crawled forward, grabbing my gun by the barrel and – taking care not to point it at myself or Sam – dragged it toward me. I checked the half-full magazine, and then let the chainsaw run for a moment to see if it was broken. Everything still worked. I had – finally – caught a break.

Looking around from my perch, I tried to identify any features that might have let me know where I was. The world sloped away from me, so at least I knew where Mount Kadar and Nexus were. I didn't want to go back up there. Nothing would _ever_ make me go back there. Thinking of Nexus brought back thoughts of the Locust's plans to sink Jacinto, which sparked a panicky feeling in my chest. I needed to find some way there – and soon - if I was going to warn the head honchos before it was too late.

_There_. It wasn't much, and no one else would have even realized it was there, but I knew what to look for. It was one of Dix's guard towers, represented by the slightly suspicious arrangement of tree limbs.

The Stranded Camp wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it was a good place to start. I carefully climbed down – I'd had enough of falling out of trees lately – and motioned for Sam to follow me. She limped beside me, sometimes walking on three legs to alleviate the pressure on her injured paw. The walk was mostly downhill which made for easier travel. Once I got closer to the Stranded Camp, I'd know exactly where I was. For now, there was nothing I could do but walk in its general direction.

I knew I was getting close when the trees started to open up. The snow became thicker and the temperature dropped, but I finally recognized exactly where I was. I'd spent many hours in these woods hunting for the camp. Sam never left my side, only whimpering when something scraped against one of her wounds.

It wasn't until I heard the gunfire that I started running.

It was coming from the camp's direction, and it wasn't just the sporadic gunfire of one or two guns. This was the sound of dozens of weapons fighting in some sort of battle. A battle of that size could only mean one thing – Locusts. My heart beat frantically when I pictured the huge, grey beasts inside the camp. Images of the horrors and damage those monsters could inflict danced through my head, spurring me on faster. The last time we'd had a locust incursion inside the community, we'd lost half the camp. And that was during Bloom. Now, with Frost so close, if the same thing happened the majority of the camp would starve to death.

The camp finally came into view, with the Locust surrounding it. The gates were still shut, but for how long? I skidded to a stop behind a downed tree, balancing my lancer on its mossy surface and taking aim. I took down two grubs before anyone realized I was there. After that, a few of them broke off from the attack and focused fire on my position. I could feel the rounds imbed themselves in the heavy oak tree I was cowering behind before I leaned out the side and shot one multiple times in the chest and the other in the face. One of the camp's guards peeked up from behind the gates and took out another two with his gnasher shotgun. Waving to him, I prepared to make a run for it.

I needed to get inside the camp and talk to Dix. The guard lay down covering fire as I sprinted for the gate. Sam stayed on my heels, running with me despite her torn paw. When I got to the entrance I turned and fired at anything grey I saw moving, waiting for the guard to activate the pulley system and let me in. The gate at my back shuttered and opened, and I fell back.

Inside the camp was almost as hectic as outside. People were running everywhere; preparing for an evac, running ammo up to the guards, or just running in panic with no particular destination in mind. I ignored them, sprinting towards the center of the camp where I knew Dix would be. He was standing amidst the chaos, dishing up orders and trying to prepare for an evacuation as well. "Dix!" I yelled, interrupting his frenzied orders to one of the younger guards. "Where do you need me?"

His head snapped up as soon as I yelled, locating me immediately. "Bri!" he said, relief crossing his features for a split-second before he snapped back into leadership mode. "The north-west gate needs reinforcements! I'll be there soon!" I nodded once, taking off for the area dictated. Sam gave a small bark, looking at me.

"Go find Momma!" I ordered Sam, hoping she'd recognize the order. She watched me for a second longer before taking off. I ran to the gate by myself.

In the north-west corner, the grubs had already infiltrated the gates and were spraying lead everywhere. Screaming and gunfire filled the air as bullets found camp members. Those without weapons fled from the area, dragging the wounded behind them. Some of the shacks had already caught fire, flames spreading fast in the shanty town. Blood stained the ground red, while dead bodies flooded the bloated river.

I slammed behind cover, enough adrenaline rushing through my system to block out any and all pain. I sprayed a grub with fire from my lancer, working on the ones inside the camp first. Rounds peppered the front of my cover, forcing me to duck more often than I liked. Reloading quickly, I leaned out the side and took out an unsuspecting grub. Just as my rifle clicked empty, Dix skidded in next to me.

"What the hell happened here?" I blurted, just as he asked, "What the hell happened to _you_?" We stared at each other for a second, the battle forgotten momentarily. He looked stunned – and really, _really _pissed off.

It made me wonder just how banged up I looked.

"These assholes came down the mountain about half an hour ago," Dix answered, taking pot shots between words. "I'm assuming they're running from something the COG's doing."

_The COG_. "Damnit, Dix, listen to me," I said insistently, dragging out my sniper. My lancer had no more rounds to feed into it. "I've got to get to Jacinto – and _fast._ The grubs-"

"Screw them!" Dix answered me, ducking back as a raze of fire barraged out small bit of cover. "The COG can deal by themselves. We need you here. _I_ need you here."

No time to analyze that for deeper meaning. "You don't understand!" I yelled above the cacophony of noise. "The grubs – they're planning to flood Jacinto!"

Dix, shooting at something I couldn't see, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Let 'em drown." Fueled by anger, I gripped his shoulder and yanked him back around to face me with enough force to pull his shoulder out of socket. My eyes blazed with frustration, and something I couldn't quite identify. "Get over yourself!" I seethed at him, hand instinctively balling into a fist. "All of those people? They're going to _die._ I can stop it – if I get there in time. I'm asking for help, Dix. Please…do you have some way of getting to Jacinto?"

He stared at me, sweat dripping down his face despite the cold. He didn't answer for a second, warring with himself. Finally, he sighed. "I've got a junker in the back garage. If you can get there and get out of here, you can have it. But Bri-" His eyes went unexpectedly soft as he stared at my face. He took one hand off of his gun and ran it gently through my hair as I stared at him, stunned. "Don't get yourself killed out there, okay? Come back to me."

"I…" I stuttered, taken completely off guard. We stared at each other, right in the middle of hell, as thunderclaps went off inside my mind. My heart thumped unevenly as he tried for a smile, one side of his mouth lifting half-heartedly. It failed and he went back to his usual grim look. "Dix, I-"

"Reaver!" a guard yelled out frantically. I scrambled upwards, yanking my sniper off of my back. I scanned the sky, finally pinpointing the Reaver against the murky clouds. _Please, PLEASE, don't let it be the Queen,_ I silently begged, peering through my scope. It didn't look like the one I had fallen off of – smaller somehow – but that didn't mean it wasn't incredibly dangerous. Still, something appeared _off _about it. Maybe it was the fact that the gunman was shooting at the locust, and not the camp. I was confused until I caught sight of the driver – complete with a full head of blond hair.

"Don't shoot the Reaver!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, clumsily lunging to my feet. Dix grabbed my pistol belt and yanked me back into cover. He gave me a slightly frustrated growl before repeating my order in a much louder and much stronger yell. I was impressed that he'd taken my word on faith, not asking me to explain why I was protecting the Locust beast. The men focused their fire on the few grubs inside the camp while the reaver circled outside, picking off grubs on the other side of the gate.

After putting a large dent in the locust force, the reaver began to descend cautiously. When no one fired at it, the reaver came in to land behind us on a pile of collapsed huts. I spun around just as Cole and Baird jumped off of it. They immediately reached for their lancers and cover, watching me closely. "Cover me," I said to Dix before springing upwards and sprinting over to them.

If there was ever a question of what I would do upon seeing Baird and Cole again, it was answered now. I felt a wave of relief that almost crushed me as I slid in next to Cole. My eyes actually went slightly damp before I reminded myself that we were, in fact, in the middle of a battle. "You guys have _no idea_ how good it is to see you again," I practically gushed. The surprising thing was I actually meant it. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders; like I had somebody I could split responsibility with again instead of having it all fall down on me.

Baird and Cole were staring at me with slightly incredulous looks. "Damn, baby," Cole almost whispered, eyes wide and as serious as I ever saw them. "Are you alright?"

There was a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of my chest. _So Marcus told them after all…_I thought dejectedly. For some reason, the thought depressed me. I wanted to pretend a while longer that it wasn't real, but if Cole and Baird knew...that would make it so much harder. "Don't mention it, okay?" I practically begged, not liking the way my voice seemed small just then.

"Don't mention it?" Baird snapped, still staring at me slack-jawed. "How are we supposed to 'not mention' the fact that your face looks like you lost a boxing match with a berserker?"

Caught off guard, I stared at him. This was…about my _wounds_? Cole let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. "Always good with the ladies, huh, Damon?" he asked sarcastically before examining me closer. "He's right though," Cole continued, voice noticeably missing his usual joviality. "You definitely took a beating somewhere. Wanna share?"

Still reeling from the fact they didn't know, (_They didn't know?) _my voice was deadpan when I spoke. "I…I fell off the reaver."

Baird looked like he was still waiting for the punch line. "You _fell off the reaver_," he repeated, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. When he recovered, he was looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Who could blame him? There were times I looked at myself the same way. "She's so small, but she gives me the _biggest _headache…"

"Hey!" I snapped before Cole could offer up a rebuttal. "We're wasting time! The Locust! They're planning to-"

"To sink Jacinto, yeah, we know," Baird said, his jaw tightening.

I stared at them both before exploding in a rage of righteous indignation. "Then why the hell are you _here_?" I snapped. "Why didn't you go straight to Jacinto? We need to start an evac!"

This time neither answered, although Cole looked at Baird expectantly, eyebrow cocked. Something in his expression told me it was Baird's idea to divert to the Stranded Camp. I rolled my eyes and got to my feet, keeping my head low. "Well, let's go!" I ran around to the other side of the reaver, where I noticed something…off. Yes, this reaver was smaller than the one I had fought Skorge on, but that just meant there were only two seats on the saddle, with nowhere else to sit. The storage compartment Sam and I had hidden in was notably missing. There wasn't room for me.

Baird leapt up onto the driver's seat, gripping the reigns tightly. The fighting was mostly outside the camp now, so he wasn't in much danger of being shot. Cole ducked around to my side of the reaver. He gripped the saddle before looking at me. Somehow – either by the look I shot him or the hesitation in my stance – he realized what was wrong. "Here, lil' sis," he called, stepping back and lifting a hand. "Sit between us. We'll make sure you don't fall off again."

The saddle had a slight rise between the two seats where I'd sit. "Deal," I said, grabbing his hand and trying to jump aboard. I didn't quite make it, only managing to get half-way on, but Baird grabbed my other arm and lifted me up behind him. I straddled the saddle precariously as Cole leapt up easily and settled in behind me. "Yo, lil' sis," Cole said behind me, like something had just occurred to him. "Where's the dog?"

_Sam_. "She's with Momma," I answered. _I hope…_ I scanned the camp worriedly as the reaver prepared to take off. Smoke from burning buildings stung my eyes, but that didn't stop me from seeing Dix running towards us. "Oh, shit…" I whispered, feeling guilty for leaving when things were so obviously going to hell in a hand basket.

"Oh, look," Baird deadpanned. "It's your resident asshole."

Dix was yelling something, but I couldn't hear him over the sound of something exploding. "Baird, c'mon!" Cole yelled, grabbing his lancer and firing at the grubs, who were slowly making their way back inside the camp. "We gotta go!"

The reaver jumped into the air, leaving behind a great gust of wind that made Dix's long, black hair tangle and flutter. "Sam!" I yelled to him, hoping he could hear. "Take care of Sam! I'll be back for her!" Then, as we got further away my shouts turning into a desperate promise that I prayed I would be able to keep. "I'll be back…._I'll be back…"_

* * *

The ride was short but tense. It felt that no matter how fast we went, it would never be fast enough. I started out with my hands on Baird's shoulders, lancer lying across my legs, but the wind bit into my exposed fingers. In a compromise, I reached down and hooked them into his belt, where they rested against the warmth of his lower back.

He shifted slightly, and called over his shoulders, "You could have just held onto my back plates."

I leaned closer so he could hear my answer. "Do you want me to move my hands?"

"No!" he replied with just a tad too much enthusiasm. Facing front, he said, "Not even a little."

Choosing not to look too closely at that, I examined the world beneath us. We were about halfway to Jacinto, although it felt like we were on the other side of the world. Searching for something to distract me from the shit-storm inside my head, something finally occurred to me. I turned to Cole, who was scanning the skies for any other enemy reavers. "Hey, how did you know I was in the Stranded camp?"

He looked up at my voice. "What's that?" he hollered back.

"The camp!" I yelled over the wind. "Last time you saw me I was onboard the Queen's reaver. How did you know I'd be in the camp?"

It was Baird who answered. "Well, unless you were cleverly disguised under the Queen's tentacles, you weren't on board the reaver anymore."

Confused and in no mood to play games, I turned to Cole. "Wanna fill me in on what the hell he's talking about?"

"After we hit up this ugly mother," he slapped the saddle, indicating the reaver, "the Queen and Skorge attacked us. We made sure you weren't still playing little-miss-hijacker before taking them out. The Queen managed to get away, but Skorge – heh, he wasn't so lucky."

I stayed quiet, digesting that. So they were able to take out Skorge from a distance, but I couldn't manage it even when we were on the same reaver. Aside from an ego bashing, it didn't really matter. "What about…the other half of Delta?" I posed the question to them both, trying to remain inconspicuous.

"They're already at Jacinto, making plans with Prescott and Hoffman," Cole answered, scanning the ground anxiously. Familiar road marks were starting to pop up, letting us know we were getting close. "By the way," he added, "I've been meaning to ask you something. What happened down in Nexus? Did y'all just get separated, or was it more than that?"

I averted my gaze, trying to think of a way to answer that honestly. "It was more than that," I said vaguely, not meeting his eyes. _A __hell__ of a lot more than that…_"But, right now, I just don't want to think about it."

Baird tensed, like he wanted to pursue the subject, but Cole just shrugged and accepted my hesitation. The wind was starting to sting my face, so I hid it against Baird's shoulder, just beneath his armor plating. I closed my eyes and tried to let my mind go blissfully blank. The only thing that mattered was getting to Jacinto and evacuating as many people as possible..or at least that's what I kept trying to tell myself.

Baird's arms flexed underneath me and the reaver banked, following his tug of the reins. I sat up straight as the distant sound of gunfire met my ears. The familiar sight of Jacinto's skyline came into view. The locusts were already here, fighting the COG. The evacuation was already in progress, streams of frightened civilians fleeing the city in droves. Many were leaving via the harbor; in boats, dinghies, ships and anything that floated. Some braved the broken highway on trucks and cars. Emergence holes propped up interminably on the jam-packed highway, spewing grubs out of the ground. They immediately opened fire upon the helpless civilians, creating a wall of fire that was practically impenetrable until a pair of Ravens showed up and started fighting the Locusts back. Smoke lay thick in the air all around where the city burned.

It was like watching a mosaic made from bits of Hell.

Baird maneuvered the reaver around the battles, deftly evading the streams of bullets aimed our way by both the COG and Locusts. Cole called into command, demanding that they call off their guns before they shot us out of the sky. Apparently it worked, because the skies cleared enough for us to land in the courtyard outside command. The reaver slammed into the ground, landing heavily upon its six legs. Cole jumped off first, with me landing right behind him. I had forgotten about the deep slice in my thigh until it pulsed with fire as I landed. Grunting in pain, I grabbed Cole's arm before I could fall over.

"Hey, Lil' Sis," Cole said gently, grabbing a hold of me. "You sure you're up for this?"

I nodded, although I didn't quite let go of him, my leg still protesting the sudden activity. "Yeah, I'll be-"

I trailed off, my breath seizing in my throat. My eyes grew wide and then narrowed as I caught sight of something – or more precisely, _someone._ There was a rushing noise in my ears that blocked out any and all other sound as I trained my sights upon the only person who mattered at that moment. He had his back to me, wide armor plates covering all of him except his neck and head. His tanned skin was dirty and sweaty, but for the first time**,** I noticed how similar the coloring was to my own. Cole was saying something, and while I couldn't focus enough to make sense of the words, it garnered _his_ attention.

Turning slowly around, he met my stunned gaze.

And, for the first time in fifteen years, I stared my father right in the eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note - I am so, so, sooo sorry this took so long to get out. Hopefully Sam and Bri being alright is enough to keep people from wanting to kill me...**

**Anyway, thoughts on the chapter? What did you think about little Bri's pranks, and Ace's punishments? Or how about Bri's lancer in the tree? And especially Bri's conversation with Dix - what do y'all think is happening there? Respond and let me know!**

**As always, a huge thanks to rockforthecross74 for beta-reading this! :D Also, anyone a Star Wars fan? Her and I are co-authoring a story call 'Gears of the Old Republic'. What would happen if an ex-sith lord named Xana Dakari crash landed on Sera, running into Bri and Ace? Utter hilarity/drama, of course! Check it out when we get it published here! :D**

**So, I got really great feedback to my last question, so I figured I'd give it another shot. The Hammer of Dawn strikes were a hot topic in the games; do you agree or disagree with Prescott's/Hoffman's/Fenix's decision to 'pull the trigger'? What would you have done differently?**

**As always, remember to review and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading! :D**


	17. A Sinking Feeling

Jacinto Military Base

Present Day

___"We will never forget. We will never forgive."_

_— A card left on a memorial to the veterans of the Pendulum Wars_

Our scars remind us that our past is real.

They are simple reminders of pain, of sacrifice, of truth. They are permanent and unyielding, just like the passing of time. They may be hidden, covered with clothing and lies. They may fade slightly until they are difficult to see…but they are always, _always_ there. And it only takes one jarring incident, one reminder, to bring back the memories, the emotions, the _pain_ of receiving those scars.

I had tried to cover my scars with lies and time, tried to protect myself from the pain of my past. A simple facade was not enough, however. Despite how much I longed to forget everything, to sink fully and wholly into the 'Bri' persona, we are never fully freed from our past. The scars will always be there.

It was as if seeing the entire world in a new light; as if reality had shifted. In truth, in was only I who was changed - wholly and completely. My eyes were wide open as I stared at this stranger. At my _father_...

How accustomed to Dom's face had I become in the past week? But with new information came new light…and a new way of seeing. It was…_difficult_ to compare his rough, ragged face with the kind memories I now possessed. Some things were the same: the scraggly beard that I knew would tickle my cheeks, the whiskey-colored eyes, and the slightly-too-wide nose centered in his face. Others were not so familiar. There was a haunted look to his expression, a secret agony deep within his eyes. He looked weary and exhausted - exhausted with war, with death, with pain and hatred. He was my father…and he was not. He was not the strong bastion of love and happiness from my childhood, but he was alive. Wasn't that all that mattered?

_No_. No, it was not. How many nights had I laid awake - shaking and crying in pain and fear - begging some great force to deliver me from Bane? Begged for the protecting figure who chased away nightmares in the dark and cleansed closets of monsters, for he who had rescued me from nightmares in the middle of the night. But…it was _hard_ to stop having nightmares when you lived in one. Over time I had stopped begging for deliverance and started looking for someone to blame. For someone to _hate_…

A thousand different emotions pulled me in a thousand different directions, paralyzing me. Whatever neat and tidy emotion I'd felt when regrouping with Cole and Baird was gone. Seeing him again…it flooded me with so many emotions that I could barely think straight. And none of them were clean, or good, or even easy. I didn't even have a name to give half of them. My throat ached with barely-contained tears while my hands clenched into a tight fist.

I wished I felt like racing over to him and flinging my arms around his neck. I wished I felt like telling him I loved him, and that all was forgiven.

I wished I felt a tiny bit glad to see him…but I didn't.

Not that my feelings seemed to matter one bit to him, however. He continued to stare off into space with that half-dead, half-disbelieving look upon his face. His eyes were sunken with pain and misery and even I could tell he wasn't focusing on anything. It was the shell-shocked expression of someone who had lost _everything_…

"That's enough," Marcus' rough voice interrupted, and suddenly he was all I could see. His tight grip replaced Cole's worried grasp on my arm as he steered me away. I stumbled along after him, finally free to tear my gaze away from my father. I had no idea how long I had been staring; whether it had been seconds, or minutes, or even hours. "Cole, you, Baird, and Dom get inside with Hoffman. I'll be there in a minute."

I vaguely heard Cole's hesitant affirmative, and then the muffled sound of boots walking away. Slowly, the real world started filtering back in. The first thing I noticed was the loud 'pump, pump, pump' of artillery fire and then the added cacophony of small arms fire. Smoke - both from burning buildings and spent gunpowder - filled my lungs; just one more detail that kept me rooted to the here and now.

Marcus steered me into a protective alcove, only letting go of my arm when he was sure I wasn't going to bolt. "Alright," he said roughly, staring at me with those startling clear blue eyes. "Let's have it."

With those three words all the anger and hatred I had felt in Nexus came swirling back in droves. My fist and jaw clenched tight against the fury I felt. We were like fire and ice standing there; his cool equanimity not the least bit shattered while I trembled like a feather in a hurricane. "You _knew_…"I spat accusingly. "You _knew_, and you didn't tell me!

"Do you even…can you even comprehend…I just-" I stuttered in absolute rage, letting the anger run through me. A vision of my dead mother flashed through my mind again, mingled with Bane's words: 'A life for a life'. "I should have killed him when I had the chance," I growled menacingly, not quite sure if I meant it or not.

"I know you don't mean that," Marcus answered, feeding the fire inside of me.

"My mother is _dead_ because of him!" I roared.

"And killing your father won't bring her back."

There was a stunned silence following his words. They were hard to swallow, and completely, absolutely true. Killing him wouldn't bring her back. Hurting him wouldn't undo the pain in my past. Punishing him wouldn't get rid of the guilt I felt. I deflated as quickly as I had riled up. "You've already lost one parent," Marcus continued, an eyebrow slightly cocked. "Do you really want to lose another?"

I couldn't answer him. I didn't know how. I closed my eyes, fighting my emotions for some semblance of the icy calm Marcus always possessed. I curled one injured arm around my chest, letting the other carry the weight of my lancer. "He didn't say anything," I realized suddenly, inadvertently voicing the thought out loud.

"He doesn't know."

_That_ caught my attention. My eyes flew open to stare at Marcus, to try and see if he was lying. "How can he '_not know'_?"

It may have been my imagination, but he looked slightly frustrated when he answered. "When you figured it out, he was a bit…indisposed. He's got a lot on his mind right now."

_That_ may have been the understatement of the year.

His eyes flickered to the command center and back again. It was probably killing him to be away from Dom when he was so obviously in a fragile state._ Too friggin' bad._ He let out a breath - not quite a sigh, just a release of frustration and nerves that have been held too taunt for too long - before he continued. "Believe it or not," he said, "This was never designed to hurt you."

Now, I didn't usually think of myself as a particularly _mean_ person, but suddenly the words were shooting out of my mouth as sharp as bullets. "What I can't understand,_ Uncle Marcus_, is why you're so worried about me being hurt now, when you haven't given a shit about me for the last fifteen years."

He looked like I had reached out and smacked him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but suddenly we were interrupted by the booming voice of Colonel Hoffman. "Fenix!" he barked in his infamous, raspy tone. "Get your ass in here!"

Marcus did a slow blink, rotating his eyes between me and command. Another barking command from Hoffman sent him rushing past me. Suddenly, I was all alone. Smoke from burnt gunpowder and burning buildings teased my nostrils and made my eyes water. I focused on the echoes and crashes from artillery fire, trying unsuccessfully to drown out my thoughts.

The reaver, standing completely forgotten until now, gave a big huff of air like he was annoyed to be sitting idle before he took off from the ground in a great rush of speed. I turned to watch him as he flew away. I expected him to head straight into battle and return to his brothers in arms, but instead he took off over the water and into the sunset. Maybe, after a life of endless war and fighting, he'd decided that it was time to strike out on his own for a life of peace. Maybe it would take him years, but eventually he'd be able to but the chaos behind him and settle into harmless tranquility.

Or maybe I was insane, and the reaver was going out to attack to boats in the harbor…just like he was doing now.

"Shit," I growled, yanking off my sniper and setting a few shots his way. He was too far out for me to kill him, but hopefully the three or four rounds I sent his way encouraged him to buzz off. Throwing my sniper over my shoulder, I headed for command. Even if I didn't like it - and believe me, I didn't like it- there came a time when you had to set aside past grudges and focus on the task at hand.

Opening the door revealed a hectic group of COG officials running around like a headless chicken. Everyone had a headset and was yelling about some crisis or another. Paperwork floated in the air as harried interns tried their best to decide what was most important and how to save it. I ducked around a young woman in a grey uniform who was carrying a box and barking orders into her headpiece. She didn't even see me as she vanished into the sea of uniforms. A quick search of the room revealed Delta at the other side of the room, standing a head taller than all around them. Biting down a grimace, I headed over.

"So what's our status?" Marcus growled to a blond woman wearing a familiar grey uniform. She was staring at a map of Jacinto that was spread on the table in front of her. Hoffman looked over one of her shoulders, and on her other side stood Chairman Prescott. He was wearing a dark grey COG uniform - no doubt intended to reinforce his position of head honcho - while his hands were layered behind his back. His feet stood a chest length apart as he loomed over the table and all around. Even though Marcus was a good five inches taller than him Prescott appeared larger somehow.

"We have a plan," answered the blond woman in a strangely familiar voice. It took me a second to remember where I knew her from._ Oh, yeah. Nexus_. She had been the one attempting to get me out of Nexus before I could kill Dom. She must be Anya Stroud. "But," she continued, "It's not going to be easy."

Prescott moved closer to the table, running his hands over the map. His right thumb stopped next to a red mark on the map. "We've identified an underground cavern near the Locust sinkhole. We believe that a strategically placed Lightmass Bomb can give Jacinto its final push."

"It's final push into what?" I asked stupidly. All eyes jumped to me, and I realized just how much I liked being anonymous. I scanned the faces in from of me, looking for someone who wasn't about to jump down my throat for interrupting. Instead, I found Dom next to the window.

He looked completely unaware of what was going on, his face contorted in pain. I felt a pang of…something…before Hoffman thankfully interrupted again in his gruff bellow. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped, staring down his nose at me.

I had to fight down a snort at his question. It was one I'd been asking myself all day long. "Does it matter?" I retorted. "I have a gun and I'm willing to fight. What more do you need to know?"

There was a startling silence while Colonel Hoffman deliberated upon my fate. I tried to ignore the pressing feeling of de-ja-vu. I had stood before Hoffman only once before while he contemplated either allowing me to join the COG or to tossing me into a farm. He'd made the wrong decision once before; hopefully he'd come through for me now. If not, there wasn't much he could do. I was going to stay, and I was going to fight, whether they liked it or not.

Hoffman turned to Marcus. "You know her?" he demanded more than asked. Marcus nodded once without looking at me. Hoffman, somehow mollified by Marcus' poor excuse for an answer, gave a curt nod and signaled for me to stay. He also, however, ignored my last question. My mouth pitched downward in aggravation as I tried unsuccessfully to figure out what the leaders of the COG were planning.

Someone grabbed my elbow gently and started tugging me away from the table. I yanked my arm out of the stranger's grasp, my hand already clenching into a fist before I realized it was only Baird. He stepped away from the small group, just far enough that a side conversation between him and I wouldn't be heard by the others. I followed his steps, curious despite myself. He gestured back to the map on the table before speaking. "Prescott's going to send a Lightmass Bomb at the intersection of the sewers and Locust tunnels. They think that they can flood the tunnels and drown the locust in their hollow by collapsing and filling the tunnels with water from Jacinto Bay."

I quickly ran over the plan in my mind, scavenging it for loopholes and mistakes. A jarring error pounded at my consciousness. "But...if we collapse the tunnels, there goes Jacinto's foundation. Jacinto will sink!"

Baird stared at me like an impatient teacher waiting for a pupil to come up with an obvious answer. _Well...duh,_ his expression seemed to say. "They're going to sink Jacinto..." I repeated through numb lips. To be honest, I wasn't all that shocked. My nerves had already been pulled and strained and tested so much today that I just felt numb. After all, you could only say 'Holy shit' so many times in one day.

Actually, the plan made sense. The grubs were already planning on flooding Jacinto and the hollow - it was just a matter of time. If we sank it first, with all the grub forces underground and our people out of Jacinto, we would win the war. The grubs would drown in their homes, and humans would survive to build another Jacinto. Technology and factory-made equipment would take a huge hit in the years to come, but we could do it. That is - if we got moving right_ now._

I ignored Baird as I stepped back up to the table to hear the rest of the plans. I could feel him re-position himself behind me to look over my shoulder, and somehow his strong, tall frame was comforting. Marcus' eyes were narrow as he stared at Prescott. "What's the catch?"

Anya answered him hastily before Prescott could get a word out. Somehow I got the feeling that Prescott and Marcus play well together. I filed that bit of information away for further use. "Due to Seeder and Nemacyst infestation, we're unable to get a chopper down there to deliver the bomb. We need someone to clear the target area."

"And by 'someone', you mean us," Marcus answered. He straightened up from the table and checked his weapon as he spoke. "Baird, Cole, I want you two to assist with the Lightmass bomb. Dom," he said Dom's name almost gently, his worry evident in his voice. "Looks like we're going back underground."

Dom straightened up from his perch at the window and nodded to Marcus without saying anything. Just then, a huge explosion rocked the command building on its' foundation, reminding us all of the danger ahead. I now had to make up my mind - stay here with Baird and Cole, or go out and fight.

It wasn't even a tough decision.

I turned around from the table and got an eyeful of Baird's chest-piece. He was still standing behind me. Apparently he could see my decision in my eyes, because all of a sudden he looked _pissed_. "You're going out there, aren't you," he accused me.

I didn't even have to nod. I just dropped the empty magazine from my lancer and slammed in a full one from the cache next to me. He shook his head as he stepped back, clearing my path. "If you die, I _will_ kill you..." he growled before following Anya into the back room with the other engineers. Cole, who had seen the whole exchange, just scoffed and shook his head with disbelief.

"Keep safe, lil' sis," he said to me just before chasing after Baird.

I grabbed a few more mags from the ammo cache before me, replacing them with the blanks from my pack as a diversion from what I was about to I seriously about to go plunging headfirst into battle with Marcus and Dom - the same two people I'd been hell-bent on killing just hours beforehand? The irony was almost stifling.

I didn't have long to think about it, however. After I stuffed the last magazine into my pack the ground shuddered again with an ominous echo, sending me scuttling out the door to join Marcus and Dom in the fight.

I sprinted out the door into a flock of COG armor and young soldiers. Another squad was there, already preparing to move out. I vaguely recognized them as Sigma squad; I had shadowed them a time or two when they were on their missions. They were a highly used part of the squad, only one tier down from Delta. They were known for being able to get the job done.

There was no way Hoffman was going to let his second-best squad sit out of the biggest fight in mankind's history. They'd be a part of the fight, just as much as Dom and Marcus. The only difference was I was reasonably sure that I didn't have any deep, dark relations with any of them. A plan began forming in the recesses of my mind. There was no way I'd sit out a fight this big, but perhaps I didn't have to play on the same team as Marcus and Dom.

"Hey, you!" I called out to the soldier closest to me. "Where's you sergeant at?"

The soldier – a tan-skinned male with green eyes and a buzz cut – turned around in confusion and gave me a surprised look, as if he couldn't quite believe I was addressing him. He cocked an eyebrow before gesturing at a slightly taller and slightly older man.

"Who wants to know?" the sergeant answered me – sergeant Gardelli if I remembered correctly.

"Today's your lucky day," I said instead of answering the proposed question. "You just got another soldier in your army."

I had to give him credit; he didn't immediately start laughing in my face. "And who exactly might you be?" he growled.

"You know, I've been asking myself that _very_ question all day." I studied the blade on my lancer thoughtfully. "But, really, who are any of us? A name? A title? Does the world judge us by who are parents are, or by what we stand for and the actions we perform?"

"What the hell are you-"

"Talk to him," I interrupted, turning at pointing the Lancer at Marcus' retreating back. "I dare say the very least he owes me is a recommendation."

_The very least…_I thought to myself as the sergeant turned to look where I was pointing. He ordered one of his men to intercept Marcus. I watched dispassionately as Marcus retraced his steps and spoke with Gardelli. Marcus' cerulean gaze flickered over to me. I returned his gaze with one of my own as he tried to explain to the sergeant why I would be joining his squad. Not that Gardelli put up much of a fight, however. Once he saw that he was speaking with the infamous 'Marcus Fenix' he backed right down.

Marcus pushed past Gardelli and made his way over to me. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled, glaring down at me.

"Just being a good little soldier," I answered, my voice practically dripping with acid. "Because, apparently, that's all I'm good for, right? Don't ask questions, don't look too closely, just play along and follow orders. Isn't that what you wanted?"

There was a moment when Marcus and I stared each other down; his gaze was cold and calculating, mine fiery and tempered. He blinked first and looked away. "Sigma's orders are to distract the Nemacyst and Seeder infestation above the drop-zone so Dom and I can deliver the bomb. I can't stop you from going, so at least _try_ not to get yourself killed?"

"But of course, _Uncle Marcus_." My lips lifted in a smile that was almost a snarl. He delivered one last, evocative look before turning around and jogging back over to where Dom waited. I watched him go. Dom still had the slightly lost look upon his face, but he became more focused once Marcus met up with him. I turned away from the pair and back to my adoptive squad.

"Let's go, boys," I said, cycling the bolt on my lancer and chambering a round. "We got a city to sink."

* * *

_**So...long time, no see, right? I'm really sorry for the accidental hiatus on this chapter; life decided to pull hard to port and writing took a backseat for a while. Plus, I wasn't actually sure how I wanted to end this chapter, so I'm sorry if it feels a bit rushed. Hopefully it'll get better.**_

**_And don't worry; the actually father-daughter reunion is coming soon! Very, very, soon! After all, Dom was a bit busy shooting Maria to notice Bri's little breakdown in Nexus. And I don't think he'd let his newly-found daughter participate in a battle for humanity's survival if he knew who Bri really was. _**

**_Hopefully there are people still out there reading this! If you're there, send me a review to let me know there's still some interest in this story! It'll help spur me on to writing the final bit of this fic! :D_**


	18. Cataclysm

Present Day

City of Jacinto

"_Forgive us..."_

_-Chairman Prescott just before activating the Hammer of Dawn for asset denial of the whole world._

Sergeant Gardelli and his men - about twenty in total - were excellent soldiers, no doubt about that. But even the most skilled soldiers weren't a match for absolutely superior numbers. We fought out way as a group from Command to the drop zone, but it seemed like with every step we took the grubs forced us two back. They were everywhere; grubs popped out of the ground behind cover, right next to you, or even right where you were standing. The ground was a never-ending tremor that was more likely to trip you rather than warn you. Reavers attacked from the air and Nemasysts lobbed artillery support down on our positions. Nowhere was safe; Jacinto had fully become a war zone.

For a brief moment, I wondered where Marcus and Dom were - but my curiosity was purely tactical. They were supposed to be clearing the path; we were merely backup. Delta 1 was heading underground; Sigma squad was to take out groundside forces. If even _they_ couldn't reach the target sight, we were all screwed.

"Move up!" a voice yelled at me and my feet automatically followed orders. The ground beneath my boots was shaking violently with the onset of even more grubs. Rounds _zinged_ through the air like deadly mosquitoes. Quickly ducking into cover about ten meters from my last position, I planted myself against the collapsed wall and took aim.

The road we were following was a bottlenecked suicide run - but it was also the fastest way to the target zone. I perched my lancer on the edge of the wall and fired at anything grey and moving. The adrenalin in my veins turned the entire world into a hyper-array of color and sound; everything was happening quickly, but also seemed to pass by in slow motion. Laying down covering fire, I motioned for the two gears behind me to move forward.

Our squad ping-ponged their way up the street in a similar fashion. We became an endless wave of gunfire and death. We anticipated each other's movements before they happened; knew what the other had planned before they did. Sigma squad was no longer just a squad - they were a consciousness. A consciousness I was a part of. This was what war did; it formed bonds between people that could never be explained, could never be broken.

We became One.

Time seemed to meld together in a morphed sense of _now_. There was no past or future, only a never-ending present that sprawled onwards unendingly. All of my problems melted away with the hissing of artillery fire and the burning scent of smoke. The screams of the dead and dying were everywhere, melding with the sounds of war into a fatal lullaby. The battlefield was a mess; civilians ran everywhere in a hectic death march and were caught in the crossfire. Some screamed at us to tell them were to go, to tell them a place where they would be safe. I had no answer for them; no place was safe. There was no place to run to. If was either fight or run, and those who ran died. The only thing I could do was not look too closely at their faces and hope I wouldn't see them tonight in my nightmares.

Killing became a reflex. It was methodical; move, cover, shoot, repeat. Over and over again until we were practically on top of the target.

Slamming against a bank of overturned earth, I quickly reloaded my Lancer and fired. The area was nothing spectacular; just an embankment of concrete and dead grass. What laid underneath the soil, however, was the important mission. This was ground zero - the intersection between the Hollow and the sewers, Jacinto's Achilles' heel. It felt like we were standing on an ant hill; the only visible part was a small hole in the world, but underneath was a twisting network filled with thousands of beings. Only in this case, these being were genetically modified super soldiers whose only mission was to wipe out humanity in its entirety.

A soldier landed on my left; it took a minute to realize it was Sergeant Gardelli himself. Pressing a finger to his comm link, he listened intently and relayed command's orders back to me. "Delta 1 is almost to the target sight, the bomb is almost ready. We need to clear the landing zone so the Ravens can land here."

"Can do," I answered swiftly before leaping head-long over the embankment and into battle. Gardelli yelled at me to get back, but I was through listening to others who thought they knew what was best for me. I knew what I was doing. Killing was instinctual; it was everything else in life that was so damn hard. My body knew what to do before I could even think of giving it demands. _Leave it to me,_ my body seemed to say, and I did. Thinking at this point would only get in the way.

Rolling to my feet, I fired off a few rounds at a pair of grubs lurking behind a collapsed building, forcing them to duck into cover. Someone else from Sigma flanked them and finished the gruesome pair off. Artillery crashed down into the arena, leaving us to duck around the explosions in a deadly game of mine sweeper. "Get to the left!" a soldier yelled at me, motioning quickly with his arm moments before a round entered his skull. A bright red, glistening trail of blood splattered along the broken ground as his lifeless body slumped to the earth. The first had fallen.

The battle continued on like that; occasionally one of ours would fall, more often we killed another grub. A splintering attack from a Nemasyst caught an oil spill on fire, spreading the flames across the battleground like water. It pressed the combatants closer together until we had to resort to hand-to-hand combat. Chainsaws roared with bloodlust, adding their cacophony to the dirge.

I screamed along with my chainsaw's whine as it bit into the central cavity of the nearest grub. He yelled and growled at me, swiping my face with the claws on his fingers. Blood caused my hand to slip on the button, and the chainsaw coughed once and halted. "Oh...shit," I whispered, frantically grabbing at the trigger before the grub ripped my gun from his chest and knocked me to the ground.

The grub slammed his clenched fists onto the ground where my chest was seconds earlier. I jumped to my feet, leaving my lancer laying on the ground in a pool of the grub's blood. He swung again, trying to connect his fist with my face, as I ducked and weaved between the deadly blows. The war raged on around us as we two battled for our lives. He swung and connected against my shoulder. Feeling desperate, I slammed my fist against the gaping wound in his chest. He roared in pain and anger, and attempted to grab me. The shards of rib bones cut my fingers as I whipped around behind him, and, using my grip in his ribcage, swung around and jumped on his back. My knees gripped his slick back as I fought his bucking and grappling to get my hands around his head and yanked hard to the right.

His neck snapped with an audible _crack_!

The grub - his body suddenly limp and lifeless - collapsed to the ground. I leapt off and grabbed my lancer, holding it tight in my grip. The battle waged onwards. Each movement melded perfectly into an orchestrated dance of death and destruction. If someone made a misstep, the penalty was their life.

"Get back!" Gardelli screamed suddenly, his panicked voice interrupting the fury of battle. "Get the fuck back!"

Just then, a heart-stopping rattle shook the ground beneath our feet. I barely had time to dive out of the way before the pavement began cracking and splintering open. I tried to run but it seemed like everywhere I laid my feet collapsed beneath me. It was like trying to escape a black hole; each step I took left me two steps behind. I was sinking slowly into the ground along with the street around me, only beneath the street laid tunnels and a hundred foot drop to a pit of imulsion. If I fell, I was dead.

I reached frantically for a clump of concrete and missed. Another hand - someone from Sigma - grabbed my wrist and held fast, holding my life very literally in their hands. The remnants of the road collapsed beneath me and suddenly I was dangling in midair even though I was eye-level with the street. "Come on!" the soldier grunted, heaving me upwards with all of his strength. "Climb up!"

Shoving my lancer ahead of me, I grasped the rocky edge of the abyss and pulled myself out. He dragged me the rest of the way and into cover. We rested for a beat against a rusted out car, both of us panting to catch our breath. "Thanks," I gasped. "For, you know..."

"Yeah," he responded. He tried to say something else, but his voice was overshadowed by the steady _pump pump pump_ of two Ravens heading inbound. His eyes went to them and he smiled. "There's the bomb!" he shouted to be heard. "We're almost out of here!"

Nodding once, I motioned about thirty yards to our left where the rest of Sigma fought the grub's remnants. "We need to regroup!"

"Go ahead! I'll cover you!" I readied myself for the thirty yard sprint, clutching my lancer close to my chest. I locked eyes for a second, he nodded, and I took off. Bullets cut the air above me but I couldn't stop. I slid into cover behind a collapsed section of a wall. Positioning my lancer, I called over for the soldier to follow.

I sprayed the surrounding area with fire, but it wasn't enough. He made it about halfway across before a stray bullet caught him in the side of the neck. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground, clutching his throat. Blood fell from the wound in a waterfall of gore; the bullet had pierced his artery. "No!" I screamed, readying myself to return and grab him. His eyes locked with mine for a brief moment before they glazed over into death. He was gone.

It was so similar to the way Ace had died that for a second I was paralyzed. I wasn't seeing the blond soldier any longer; instead, I saw a brown-haired sniper who had sacrificed himself so I could escape. My stomach clenched with fear and pain as the vision danced over my consciousness. _Ace...I'm so sorry..._

Regret and sadness was chased away by sudden, all-consuming anger. These damn locust would not take anything else from me, or anyone else, ever again. I would make sure of it.

"Let's move!" the sergeant yelled over the cacophony of screeching metal and death screams. His men started retreating one by one away from the fury of the battle. We were hopelessly outnumbered and out-gunned; hundreds of grubs of every type imaginable were slowly intruding upon our flank. My clothes were stained deep burgundy with the spilled blood that ran through the streets like a river. Sigma squad had taken devastating losses; there were only five of us left. I laid down covering fire to protect their backs; the sergeant jostled my body as he intruded upon my shelter. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Come on," he called out over the background noise of battle. "This place is about to blow! We need to get out!"

I waved him onwards. "You go! I'm right behind you!"

Indecision flickered in his eyes. If I had been one of his gears there was no way he'd leave me behind. As it was, I was nothing more than simple Stranded - weak and disposable. "Don't do anything stupid," he finally said. "I'll be expecting you at the rendezvous." With that, he took off after his men.

I had a score to settle. More than one, actually. There were plenty of Locusts still around that deserved shooting at. I finished those close to me with my lancer before switching to my longshot. A small mountain of brass grew by my side as I continued shooting at anything grey and scaly.

_Bang_. That's for Ace.

_Bang_. That's for my family.

_Bang_. That's for Jacinto, you mother fuckers.

Suddenly, there was a huge, brilliant flash of light and sound that overloaded all my senses for a split-second. Then a wave of heat came rolling over me and pressed my body to the ground - the percussive wave after an explosion. Rocks and bits of pavement that had become airborne after the explosion peppered my face and hands, leaving them stinging with sharp pain. A soundless roar echoed in my ears and overshadowed any other sound. This was it - ground zero. My wavering shelter hastily created out of concrete bricks and a rusted out car slowly disintegrated in front of me.

Gingerly lifting my head off the hard ground, I scanned for more grubs. Those who had been standing were killed instantly from the blast; their bodies were strewn amongst the street like stomach-churning confetti. A few live grubs still peppered the air close to me with bullets. However, the soundless roar in my head was slowly replaced with startled growls and yells and a horrifying, sickening, creaking of pavement and stone. Peering around the endless grey and red of concrete and blood, I searched for the catalyst of the noise.

It was the town center. Or, rather, where the town center had been moments earlier. Instead, there was a gaping void that was rapidly expanding to swallow the city around it. I watched - horrified - as a statue, a memorial figurine of a weeping woman dedicated to the lost soldiers from the Pendulum Wars, plummeted and disappeared beneath the carious nothingness.

Jacinto was sinking. All of it, crashing and succumbing to the vacancies below the city's foundation.

And it was too late to stop it.

The bright, shining light from the Hammer came crashing down below the pavement, erupting something hidden below. The noise that erupted from the hammer was a terrifying screeching sound that muted everything else. My eyes burned with the intensity and heat of the lights even as two black KR's gained altitude and fled the scene. I couldn't stop staring; it was hypnotizing, watching the end of humanity. A quick flash of light would end the world.

It was such a polite way to usher in mass destruction.

The pavement below me started shifting and giving way, diverting my attention back to the immediate danger. _Right, sinking. The entire city is sinking..._ I thought to myself. _Might be a good idea to shift my ass. _

Tearing my eyes away from the apocalyptic sight before me, I turned tail and sprinted as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I could barely focus enough to gather my bearings; I just knew I had to move. Buildings started to sway above me as the world shifted and tilted downwards. With a heart-stopping groan, a multi-leveled office building that had been converted to emergency shelter gave way. Its supports yanked themselves out of the ground and the building fell, crashing into another and taking it down also. Bricks and plaster rained down on my head as I tried my best to cover myself and keep going.

"This...is...pointless!" I panted even as my legs churned beneath me, frantically trying for a bit more speed to accost my body out of the city. There was no way I could outrun the end of the world. It was another mile, at least, to the outskirts of the city. And who knew if the destruction would end there? The hollow had tunnels stretching for hundreds of miles outside the city. If the destruction triggered a chain reaction and kept collapsing those tunnels, the devastation wouldn't end at Jacinto's city limits. The only sure way out of this was either a helicopter or a boat, and I had neither.

"Help!" someone - a male - hollered hoarsely from a distance. I nearly ran past the voice - coming from down a side street - until he called me back. "No, wait! Don't leave! I'll die if you leave!"

Reason and self-preservation urged me to keep running, but my better-half grabbed a hold of me. Even now - past the end of the world - I couldn't leave someone else to die. My boots skidded on loose rubble as I yanked myself to a stop and backtracked to where I had first heard the voice.

Coming to an intersection, I hastily scanned both side streets until I saw a man - a gear - laying in the middle of the road, his leg pinned by a chunk of fallen building. I groaned to myself as I sprinted towards him. I was going to get myself killed saving another. Never let it be said I wasn't a hopeless bleeding heart.

The world shifted again, sending me sprawling to the pavement next to the man. Gasping with the fresh pain as chunks of rock embedded themselves in my skin, I looked up into a familiar face.

"You!" he almost yelped in surprise as my stomach fled somewhere down near my boots. It was the gear from the bathroom - the one who vowed he'd kill me the next chance he got. The one who Baird had literally thrown from the room.

The one who was pinned and trapped, sure to die if I didn't save him.

"Can this day get _any_ more screwed up?" I growled to myself whilst setting my lancer beside me on the ground. Repositioning myself to get a better grip on the chunk of concrete pinning his leg, I strained to heave it off of him.

"No, no!" he protested. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm saving your worthless life!" I grunted as I tried to heave the concrete off of his pinned leg. "Damn it, it's too heavy. Maybe I can unstrap your armor and get your leg out."

Peering beneath the concrete slab, I tried to find what exactly had him pinned. The weight pressing against his boot had him ensnared. However, the boot was metal. If he could get his foot out of his boot, the metal of the boot might just hold the slab.

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned me. He was honestly curious.

I fought with the buckles on his boot while I attempted to think of an answer. "Hell if I know," I grunted. One buckle gave way and I moved over to the next one. "Maybe it's because I want a rematch in the bathroom. Or because I wanna see Baird beat your ass again. Or maybe, just maybe, I've seen one too many people die today, and feel the need to save at least somebody." The next buckle opened, and he was free.

Normally, it would be considered beyond stupid to save a known enemy. Especially when you yourself was in danger. But today, after everything I'd seen, I felt like being the tiniest bit stupid. If I could bring myself to save the life of someone who tried to kill me, it showed I had a small bit of forgiveness still inside me.

It was time to make amends with a certain squad, but first I had to get out of Jacinto.

"Okay, see if you can get your foot free." It took some grunting and cursing on his part, but finally his bare limb emerged from under the slab of concrete. The world shuddered threateningly again as he got to his feet. I offered him a hand, but he ignored it. Some things, at least, never changed.

"All right." The brief rescue mission had given me time to gather my bearings. "Best way out of here is north. Let's go."

He shook his head, already jogging out west as a slight crashing sound echoed through the streets. "I've got to go this way!"

I wanted to argue the point, but I didn't have time. I had given him a fighting chance; that's all I was entitled to do. Now, it was time to save myself.

Taking off towards the north, I focused on remembering every side alley and backstreet I knew from my time in Jacinto. A slight detour would save me precious seconds. The echoing crashing sound became louder as I rounded a corner. It was only when I went another three blocks when I figured out what exactly it was.

Water.

Crashing water from Jacinto Bay flooding the city, washing away blocks at a time of city streets. The grey gunk-filled water - filled with all the dirt and filth that habituated the city and sewers - rushed down the street in an endless wave. I barely had time to turn around before it crashed into my back and swept me off of my feet. The tenacious current dragged me underneath the surface and ensnared me, refusing to let me surface for air.

I was going to die by drowning in the middle of the city. The irony was not lost on me, not one bit.

The water was _cold_. The outside world - the sounds, smells, sights - were immediately cut off. It was quiet in a way that went beyond mere silence. Even in total silence your mind still chattered away at you in an attempt to fill the void. The water filled my ears and dampened my mind until all that was left was blissful quiet.

My senses came back to me all at once in a painful slap of reality. _Right_, I thought to myself, _Water. Drowning. This is bad_…I kicked out against the heavy water and swung with my arms as if I was fighting an invisible opponent. The covetous water sucked me back down into its murky depths. That alone wasn't enough for it, however. The water dragged at me and pushed me until I thought it would tear me in two. I spun over and over until I had no idea which way was up or down, or left or right. The river pushed insistently at my chest; it tried to force the last bit of life-giving air from my lungs.

_Riptide_. The word came easily to my mind. After all, how many times had Ace warned all me of their deadly embrace? The water sucked and pulled and pushed and yanked at me. The water was greedy, insatiable. My lungs began to burn in an oxygen-deprived fire. I continued to fight against the current, but my limbs grew heavier and harder to move. There was no way to know if I was even swimming in the right direction; I could have been swimming deeper into the water's depths. I knew how to find which way was up - open your mouth a teeny bit and watch which way the bubble of oxygen floated off towards - but instinct pulled harder than reason and my lips held tightly against themselves.

Sensation fled from my extremities. It felt like the icy river water had replaced the blood in my veins. My back struck heavily against a submerged building; the blow forced the last bit of oxygen from my lungs. My chest instinctively convulsed, searching for air and finding choking water instead. My throat burned like it had when smoking Diesel's cigarettes. I watched the bubbles dance above me, abandoning me for the surface.

I was tired of it. Not scared - not just then - and not awed or overcome or crushed or defeated, just tired. I was giving up. Not just mentally, my body just didn't want to fight anymore. It just took too much out of me; took too much from me.

I was _done_ fighting.

Still, Ace's strong glare fluttered in my vision. I could only imagine what he'd say if he saw me now. He'd yell at me for giving up - for admitting defeat. He always pushed me to be my best, to run that extra mile, to do and re-do until I had everything down perfect. His extreme perseverance had saved my life many times before. Now would be no different.

Daring to open my eyes, I glanced upwards for one last peak at the world. The watery reflection of the Octus tower flowed over the surface of the water. Octus tower - one of the tallest building in Jacinto. Slowly, an idea formed in the deep recesses of my mind. Gathering up the last of my strength, I fought the fierce current to the surface, bracing myself against the wall. I broke through the surface with a gasp. The sound of the sinking city returned to my ears, sending another jolt of adrenalin through my veins.

The water had already risen to the second story windows. Somehow, I had held onto my lancer. The water pressed me against the corner, but I had just enough reach to throw my lancer against the dirty glass. Thankfully, it shattered with the impact. I grabbed the windowsill and - careful of the broken glass - heaved myself into the building.

The floor was blissfully dry and solid. I laid there for a brief moment, focusing only upon the flow of oxygen into my lungs, and then out, and then back in again. It was only the sound of water beginning to pour in through the open window that sent me to my feet. Grabbing my lancer off the floor, I headed towards the nearest staircase.

The floor still tilted dangerously because of the force of water near the foundation and the bucking of the ground beneath it. There was _every_ possibility that the building could topple over completely, but I didn't have time to worry about that. I had to get to the roof.

The elevators were off - electricity had been cut almost as soon as the bomb exploded. Not that I would have trusted them normally, anyway. It took all of my energy to raise my feet to each and every step up the flight of stairs. I lost count of the floors; I only knew that I had to reach the roof.

Finally, a steel-grey door labeled 'Roof' with black spray paint appeared at the mouth of the endless staircase. I fell upon the handle, shoving the door open with all my strength. The building shifted again, sending me sprawling out of the opening, as if it was urging me onwards. The wind whipped through my loose hair and chilled me to the bone. The water that was seeped through my clothes mixed with the chill in the air and made the world feel colder than it was. Goose bumps rose along my bare skin as I made my way to the edge of the roof.

The devastation was astounding. Grey water rose through the area between those buildings still standing. Some electric fires had broken out, sending billowing smoke through the sky. Dead bodies of gears, civilians, and grubs crowded the ever-growing cess-pit that had become Jacinto. The current swept towards the center of the city where a rapidly-forming whirlpool was sending the trashed city down into the Hollow. The devastation was choking the grubs out of their home, but it had done the same to us.

The sky was filled with the last of the abandoning Ravens. With the entire fleet in the air, it almost looked like the COG had a proper air force again. My only chance now was to somehow signal one down to my position and convince them to give me a ride.

Once again, I kicked myself for destroying the comm unit Cole had given me. It had been a petty move to show my anger, but had only succeeded in screwing myself over time and time again. Trying to convince myself that the comms were probably already down because of the devastation, I forced my mind back to the task at hand.

The roof wasn't exactly the best place to stage a rescue mission. Like most Silver-era buildings, form took precedence over function. The building was carved and stooped to appear more like a piece of art rather than a functional office building. The very top was bulbous, a half circle of bronze and copper that was topped with the COG flag.

The _Flag_...

Not hesitating, I slipped my lancer through both my sniper strap and the strap of my pack so it rested against my lower back. Praying silently that it would remain there, I climbed up the slippery bulb, my wet clothing sliding easily against the slick surface. The metal was cold against my hands and made my movements clumsy and inefficient, but somehow I managed to reach to flagpole in the center. Wind whipped the ropes and pulley against the pole. Snatching one side of the pulley, I gave an experimental tug.

A flag flying upside down was the universal sign of distress. A normal sized flag would be hard to spot, but this was the Octus tower - Jacinto's pride and joy. The flag that flew proudly above the building was one of the largest left in the city after E-day. Hopefully it would be just large enough to attract someone's attention.

The pulley wouldn't give, and the building groaning beneath me was a constant reminder that I didn't have the time to struggle with it. The pole, with its slick surface and small grip, would be much harder than climbing a tree, but not impossible. Maybe all the practice I had climbing to tie apples onto oak trees would save my life here and now.

Hefting one arm above the other, I slowly ascended up the pole. It was like climbing a rope; both legs wrapped tightly around the center, I had to use my arms to shove myself closer to the flag. The deep ebony and red of the flag billowed with the wind, stretching the ropes taunt against the pole. Thick clips attached the flag to the ropes, and I struggled to get my numb fingers around the first clip to open it and remove the flag from it. The sea air had corroded the copper, and with supplies as rare as they were no one had thought to replace them.

The bottom clip finally came undone with an audible groan, just as the tower shifted dangerously to the left. The foundation was giving way; I had only seconds before the entire building collapsed beneath me. Planting the free clip between my teeth, I struggled further up the flag pole to reach the top of the flag.

The top clip was more stubborn and corroded that the bottom one. No matter how much I pressed or pushed against the release, it refused to come undone. "Come _on!"_ I growled frantically. Numb fingers fought the slippery metal, but it was no use. I couldn't get the damn clip undone with only one hand, and I needed my other hand to hold myself up against the pole. Giving up on the clip, I gave the flag itself a panicked tug. The fabric gave way beneath my fist. One more hefty tug on the fabric, and the flag ripped itself free from the remaining clip.

Fumbling with the red fabric, I tried to flip it upside down without losing my grip on the flagpole. The wind swelled and caught hold of the fabric, ripping it from my grasp. It billowed with the wind as the strip of red and black fell away from Octus tower and down towards the flooded street below.

I froze. My eyes widened with disbelief as I watched my only hope of rescue fall into the churning waters beneath. "No...no...no..." I repeated through numb lips like a mantra. There was nothing I could do; I had dropped the flag hundreds of feet. The slim chance I had before vanished as the building shifted even more.

I pressed my forehead against the frozen metal. I had failed, and now I was going to die. Any second now the foundation would give way fully and the building would collapse. I'd join the COG flag in the deep and merciless water hundreds of feet below. My only comfort was knowing Sam was safe with Momma. Hopefully Delta had escaped. Dom wouldn't even know I was missing; hopefully Marcus would keep my identity a secret. Dom didn't need any more pain in his life.

Lost in my self-pitying thoughts, I almost missed the rapidly approaching _pump pump pump_ sound of a Raven. I whipped my head around frantically, finding one KR heading back towards Octus tower, against the flight pattern of every other helicopter. Heading _straight towards me..._

"_Here!"_ I screamed so loud that both my throat and ears protested. "Please, over here!" One hand peeled itself away from the pole and waved at the pilot. Miraculously, the Raven kept coming straight towards me. "Here, over here!"

Pulling aside the flag pole, the Raven's blades cut through the air and sent a chill straight through my bones. Chopper backlash sent all the dirt and filth on top of the building flying into my face, but I couldn't care less. The side door of the Raven slid open, revealing an all-too welcome sight.

"You know, when I looked at Octus tower and saw some maniac changing the flag, I had to think to myself, 'Who do I know who'd be crazy enough to attempt something like that'? Damn, 'Lil Sis, you're insane!" Cole reached for me as he spoke, holding his large hand out as a rescue. The pilot got the Raven close enough to the pole that I could reach his warm hand with my own. I let go of the flagpole just as the building lost grip of its foundation and collapsed towards the ground with a stomach-churning scream.

Cole pulled me fully inside the Raven and I collapsed on the flight deck, utterly exhausted. My chest pulsed as I gasped for breath. "I tried...the flag...water...collapsing..."

"Easy there," Cole said in his warm voice, pushing my wet hair out of my face. "You're safe now. I got you."

Looking into his smiling brown eyes, I felt reassured. I was safe, and I was alive. For a brief moment, that was all I could ask for. Swallowing thickly, I nodded. "Thank you..." I whispered softly, letting my eyes sink shut.

For a few seconds, all I did was breath the sweet air whistling in through the open door. The cold didn't bother me, nor did my lancer and sniper pressing against my back. Then, as my mind slowly caught up with the full situation, I opened my eyes and sat up. "Cole? Where's Baird? And Marcus...and Dom?"

He tried to hide the worry in his expression, but I saw through him. He didn't know. "Comms are down right now," he answered cheerfully. "As soon as we get them up, I'm sure we'll find them safe and sound."

I nodded slowly, but didn't share in his optimism. People I got close to died. Why would they be any different? Coughing out some of the excess water still in my lungs, I glanced around the other occupants of the Raven.

Anya, the blond woman from before, was shouting something into her comm unit, looking panicked but trying not to show it. The other two occupants made me cock an eyebrow in surprise - Colonel Hoffman and Chairman Prescott. Prescott's _personal _Raven had turned around to save me from certain death. Maybe later I'd find it in me to feel a bit honored.

Neither were paying attention to me, however. Hoffman looked like he was seconds away from decking Prescott. They appeared to be arguing about something, but I had no idea what. I didn't care, either. The pain in my thigh was starting to come back now that the adrenalin was fading from my veins. Other wounds made themselves apparent as well, pulsing angrily all throughout my body. Stiff and sore muscles ached under my skin, and my skin felt raw and chapped. The cold was just starting to get to me, making me shiver in the wind.

Cole wrapped an aluminum blanket over my shoulders as the Raven banked and headed back north. Cole jumped to his feet and I looked up, curious despite myself. Another Raven pulled up beside us, their door open as well.

It was the rest of Delta. Breathing a sigh of relief, I did a quick head count. Baird scanned the bird and, finding both Cole and I safe, nodded once to himself and sat down, promptly ignoring everything else around us. Marcus only had eyes for Anya, however. I fought the urge to roll my eyes as the pair of lovebirds stared at each other across the empty space. Filing that little tidbit of information away for later use, I looked at Dom.

He had risen to stand next to Marcus, but when he saw everything was fine he sat back down on the bucket bench. He pulled something out of his armor - something much too small for me to see - and stared reverently at it. If I knew him at all, if would be a picture of Maria. Now that the mission was over, the pain would hit him in full force. I knew that feeling - the one right before the pain came - all too well. My stomach clenched uncomfortably in pity and sympathy.

_He doesn't know..._Marcus' voice echoed through my mind. Dom didn't know I was his daughter. Maybe it was better that way; it would spare him the pain when I eventually took off for the camp. Maybe I'd tell him - either tonight, or tomorrow, or a week from now. That wasn't a decision I had to make right then. For now, we were both alive. The future could wait for tomorrow.

I sat down on the bench facing the rear of the cabin, wrapping the aluminum blanket tighter around my shoulders. "Where are we going?" I had to yell to be heard over the wind and Raven, but Cole heard me.

"Port Farrell," he answered. The other Raven banked and headed away from us. Cole nodded once and sat down across from me, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. He began to write something down.

I nodded to myself slowly, staring out the open door. If I strained my neck in just the right angle, I could still see the last of Jacinto sinking into the ground. Fires still burned from around the city. As I watched, another tall building gave way and crashed into Jacinto bay. The sun was slowly setting across the horizon, giving the appearance that it was setting on the COG. The last bastion of humanity was being demolished before my eyes. But, on the other hand, the grubs were destroyed and the war was over. What became of Sera now was up to us.

"At least it'll be interesting," I muttered to myself as I stared out the door at Jacinto's remnant.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hopefully this chapter wasn't too confusing with all the combat. I can see the fighting clearly in my mind, but sometimes it's hard to write it all down, but still keep it fast paced. **

**Did you like the small twist on the last mission? Hopefully there were enough details still in the story that you could mentally follow along with the game. I hope you liked it!**

**I'm going to try and keep the chapters shorter in the hopes of uploading more often. This next bit is actually the part I wanted to write from the very beginning, but I had to set up the story first. Lot's of personal drama, a few plot twists, and a lot of bonding. **

**Remember to leave a review on your way out, if you please! If you do, I'll be sure to send a preview of the next chapter your way! **

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	19. Part II: Regenesis

**Part II: Regenesis**

* * *

Present Day

Port Farrall

_"I'm not going to give you a stirring speech. We face facts. Our society's changed out of all recognition in three hours. We're more at risk now than we were under Locust attack. We've lost even the most basic comforts we had in Jacinto. People will die of cold and hunger. People will become angry and scared very, very fast, and that's the point at which we face collapse. _

_It's going to get a lot worse before it gets better."_

_-Chairman Richard Prescott on the situation at Port Farrall. _

The whole of humanity - except for the roving Stranded gangs splattered about the world - stood before me in its entirety. I stared at them all from my perch high on the hill, and suddenly felt very, very small.

Jacinto had emptied in an hour. It was a record breaking evacuation - after all, civilians were used to the type of catastrophe that forced them from their home. The logistics team could all pat themselves on the back and congratulate themselves on saving the vast majority of Jacinto. How many were saved? Seventy percent? Eighty? An amazing feat from the tactical perspective, but an encompassing sadness pressed against my chest. Yes, many were saved, but how many had died as well? And not just the civilians of Jacinto; many Stranded made their camps next to the city's outskirts? Their names would not be added to the list of dead.

Standing high upon the hill above Port Farrall, I tried to come to grips with the altered reality. So ended the long, horrible war that would never be forgotten. Life would go on. It would go on despite both the dead and the living, because this was a war that no one had quite survived. Something in humanity - something very important and precious - had been killed by it or, perhaps, it had just died of hunger, or starvation, or simply of disgust. Even now, the very first signs of 'moving on' could be seen amongst the survivors in the camps. We would try to bury the pain and sadness quickly, allow the earth to settle over it, and turn our backs on the horrible memories the war had provided. After all, our real life was now beginning, and what to make of it was up to us.

People below were scurrying about, looking for friends and family that had become separated during the evacuation. For once, I felt relieved that I had no one to search for. It saved me the terror and panic of searching through thousands of featureless faces in the streets, or scanning the lists of dead for a name. I knew those important to me were alive. That was good enough for now.

Night had fallen by the time our Raven had landed in Port Farrall. The dim lights of camp fires set throughout the camp glowed in the darkness. Emergency services were being set up as quickly as possible. The very basics - food, clean water, and shelter - took precedence over calculating total life lost. The dead could take care of themselves; for now the living needed our help.

I slowly rose to my feet, wincing as my muscles protested the movement. My body was sore and sticky; the runoff and filth from Jacinto still covered my skin and clothes in a thin sludge. Pain in my thigh billowed to an angry throbbing as I limped myself down to the city.

"Bri!" a shrill voice called. Turning at the sound, I barely recognized the flash of red hair before the small girl barreled into my side. "Bri, please, you have to help me. I can't find Maralin or my Dad!"

The young girl was Teresa - one of Dizzy's daughter. I had befriended them long ago when I lived with Ace. The only young girls on base tended to stick together. "Okay, Teresa. Calm down. When was the last time you saw them?"

Her pale face was filthy and tear-streaked. Her eyes shot quick, furtive looks around us as if she could peer through the thousands of people to find her family. "I was put on another boat back at Jacinto. We didn't have any choice in it. Now I can't find them! And I need-"

"It's okay," I interrupted in a soothing voice. She still clung to me frantically, so I rubbed a reassuring hand up and down her arm. "We'll find them. I promise."

Promises were a risky thing in today's world, but this I deserved. One thing had to go right today. Just this once. Guiding her through the frenzied crowd with my arm around her thin shoulders, I searched for a familiar face. Finally, I found Anya standing on the open ramp of an Armadillo. I marched myself and Teresa straight up to her. "I need to find Private Dizzy Wallins."

If Anya was taken off guard by the fierce instructions, she didn't show it. Instead, her hand went immediately to her comms. Murmuring a few short instructions, she searched the comm traffic for Teresa's father.

"Teresa!" an all-too familiar voice hollered above the normal turmoil. We both turned to see Dizzy's moth eaten cowboy hat bouncing through the crowd at a frantic pace. Teresa broke from my arms to meet him halfway, throwing herself tearfully into his arms. Dizzy plucked both of his daughters - both with long, red hair - into his arms and lifted them off the ground, not even willing to share his flesh and blood with the ground. The family embraced happily, finding peace in the midst of hell.

My throat felt thick despite myself. What would it be like to throw myself into my father's arms, content at knowing he'd always be there for me? Would I ever grow accustomed to having a strong pair of arms picking me up when I fell? A warm hand grasped my shoulder, and I flinched around to see Anya's kind face nodding at me. "It'll be okay," she said.

Even if she didn't know the whole story - and I was relatively sure she didn't - her offered words of comfort struck a chord deep inside. Nodding once, I pulled my shoulder from her hand and walked down the ramp. Dizzy had set his daughters back onto their feet. He watched as I approached. "You alright there, Bri?"

My cracked lips burned slightly as I gifted him with a wan smile. "You know me, Dizzy. I'm always alright."

He looked like he would offer me a hug, but he had his arms full of his own daughters. His family was complete. There was no room in his father's heart even if I asked, and I was fine on my own. I had been for years now.

Bidding farewell to the trio, I headed back towards the outskirts of the ruined city. The bitter wind whipped through my untied hair, tangling the raven strands behind me. Somewhere I had lost the leather cord that kept my long hair pulled back. The sleeves of my jacket were ripped and town beyond repair, and everywhere my skin was covered in lesions and scrapes. Finding an abandoned building that had not yet been commandeered by Sharle and his crew, I ducked inside.

The interior of the building was what I had come to expect for an abandoned structure. Some walls had been torn down - the plaster and wire ripped from the rafters - leaving bare bricks behind. Some trash littered the corners of the rooms, and I saw the tail of a rat that fled into the shadows. The carpet was torn in places, and the bare floorboards were semi-rotted beneath. Broken glass glinted in the starlight from a broken window; wind whistled in through the hole in the wall. Snow fell in a thick haze outside, which added to the icy feeling of the building.

For tonight, it would be home.

The pain in my thigh intensified, so I had to work quickly to clear a space to rest. I grabbed a semi-rotted piece of wood and used it to scrape away the trash and filth from the far corner of the room. I took the metal cup from my empty canteen and placed it on the broken windowsill to fill with snow. I set my pack and rifles down against the wall, and gathered up anything flammable in the room; thread-bare pieces of carpet would be kindling, as would some limp pieces of paper. I broke apart pieces of wood to keep the fire going throughout the night. Setting up a protective ring in the corner of the room with some loose bricks I found, I readied my gatherings to create a fire.

I placed the fire in the corner of the room so the heat would reflect off the walls and give double the heat. I shredded the paper and dry twigs into the center of the circle and pulled out my lighter. It took a few flicks with my numb fingers to get it to light, but finally the kindling caught and gifted me with a bright, orange blaze. Blowing slightly to feed it oxygen, I slowly added more kindling. Slowly, I added more substantial fuel until my campfire was large enough to sustain itself for a while.

I retrieved my canteen cup from the windowsill. The falling snow had filled it almost to the top. The fire would melt most of it away, but hopefully I'd have enough to wash up with. My face felt sticky and gross even to me, as did most of my body.

Sitting next to the fire, I slowly peeled away the grey, blood-stained bandages wrapped around my leg. The fabric tugged at the just-healing skin and it started bleeding all over again. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath. I retrieved a bit of cloth from my pack and soaked it in the luke-warm snow water above the fire before gently using it to clear out the wound. Blood and water mixed together and soaked into the floor beneath me. I had to pull bits of gravel and pavement out of the injury.

It probably needed stitches, but I didn't have any suture kit. The doctors would be overwhelmed with far more grievous injuries in the med tent, and supplies would be limited as well. I had to go to the next best thing.

My knife emerged from its sheath with a resounding _swish_. I tested the size of it against the bleeding gash in my leg; the knife was just wide enough to fit the entire wound. Normally, I'd clean the blade first, but ironically my knife was the cleanest thing I had on me. The black metal glinted in the reflection from the flame as I stuck it into the depth of the fire. As I waited for the metal to heat, I rinsed the bandages in the canteen cup. The water turned to a blood-tinted grey almost immediately. I rang them out over a pile of trash a few feet away and set them upon the bricks; the water would probably freeze away from the heat of the fire, and I didn't want to wake up covered in ice.

I stared at the knife - partially hidden within the orange and red licks of fire - and felt a nervous shiver pass over me. I'd only cauterized a wound once before, and I didn't relish the thought of trying it again. The smell of burnt flesh always hung around for days afterwards.

I picked up the cleanest stick from my stack of fire wood, and scraped off the damp bark from the outside of it. The wood scraped my teeth as I inserted it into my mouth and bit down slightly. It tasted of bark and dirt, but hopefully it would muffle my screams and stop me from cracking a tooth when I bit down against the pain.

My stomach heaved uncomfortably as I picked the knife up out of the fire by its handle. The blade steamed against the chill in the air, but didn't glow with heat. If it had been laminated with red or white heat, it would have been much too hot. Cauterization only worked to close wounds and stop bleeding. It made no sense to burn away healthy tissue. Of course, I hadn't known that my first time. Maybe this time wouldn't hurt as much.

_Here goes nothing,_ I thought to myself as I pressed the blade to my leg.

The agony was immediate and _intense_. Groaning with the venomous sting, my wrist snapped my hand holding the knife away from my skin. My skin protested harshly, the bleeding wound now looking even more swollen and angry. Breathing deeply, I touched the burning blade back to my leg again and again, never leaving it there for more than a few seconds. It was better to do it in short bursts; both for my sanity and to avoid burning the healthy tissue around the wound. The pain made me gasp for breath as salty tears dripped down my cheeks unbidden. My jaw ached with the immense pressure from my teeth as I strained to clench my jaw shut.

I tapped the crude tool to my leg again and again, until I could take it no more. I collapsed to the floor as the pain as strong as one hundred daggers sank into my thigh. I stabbed the knife into the ground and spit the stick out of my mouth. Groaning with anguish, I clutched my leg tightly, just hoping the pain would recede. My eyes were watery with the sheer pain, and my breath came out in sharp, shallow rasps. Sweat dripped down the side of my face and covered my forehead in a thin sheen despite the cold weather. My stomach heaved, causing me to lean over and gag violently. If there had been anything substantial in my stomach, it would have come out.

Finally, the agony in my leg retreated enough for me to extend my leg and examine the wound. I coughed hoarsely and gently probed the thick scab trailing its way down the side of my thigh. It would make an interesting scar, at the very least. I took the bandages away from the fire and draped them gently over my leg. The fire hadn't done much in way of drying them, but the cool dampness felt good. Hissing as the rough fabric pulled the tender flesh the wrong way, I finished bandaging my leg.

I wanted to sleep immediately, but all of my stuff was drenched in disgusting flood water. I didn't make it this far on my own by letting my guns rust and my things rot. Blinking away exhaustion, I rose to gather more snow in my canteen cup. Placing it over the fire to melt, I upturned my pack so all of my things clattered to the floor. Most of it - my compass, foil-wrapped ration packs, and spare canteen - would be fine once they dried out. The ammo would be fine as well, as long as they had been properly cased. My spare clothing would have to be washed before I'd wear it again.

Searching through the pockets for my gun cleaning kit, I noticed something was off. My brow furrowed as I plunged my hand again and again through the pockets. "Oh, please no..." I whispered. I found the gun cleaning kit, but that wasn't what bothered me. I tapped my pants pockets and found them empty.

My locket was gone.

Suddenly, the memory came back to me. The locket had fallen through my limp fingers in the Hollow as I watched Dom press his gun's barrel against Maria's temple. It felt like a kick in the gut when I realized I'd never retrieved it from the stone floor. "Damnit..." I growled to myself, slapping my forehead with the heel of my hand. I had held on to that locket for fifteen years - through times with Bane, through Ace's death, through leaving Jacinto and becoming Stranded. Losing it felt like losing a part of myself. Now, thanks to the flooding in the tunnels, there was no way of retrieving it. It was gone forever.

Rage didn't come close to describing the anger I felt at myself for losing it. I shoved my pack onto the ground next to the fire to dry out as I got to my feet and began to pace. My hands practically shook with emotion as I mentally berated myself. _Oh, way to go, Bri!_ my mind chanted sarcastically, _One moment of surprise and you drop the most important thing you own. Very smart, very intelligent. _

Finally, when my tortured leg could hold my weight no longer, I slumped to the ground next to the fire. It was such a little thing, but suddenly I felt like crying. The annoying prick of tears pressed at me from behind my eyelids, so I shut them. _You are NOT going to cry_, I berated myself. When I believed that, I opened my eyes. I was angry and disappointed, but there was nothing to do about it. Instead of sitting there wallowing in self-pity, I picked up my guns.

Both my sniper and pistol had taken a swim before, but the lancer was something new. The water wouldn't hurt them, unless it was allowed to sit there and rust. I wasn't sure about the chainsaw on the lancer, however. There had to be electronics in there, or - at the very least - a fuel source. If water mixed with the fuel port...well, I didn't really know what would happen. I set the lancer aside for the moment; I'd have to get somebody more familiar with the weapon to show me how to clean it in the morning. Hopefully one damp night wouldn't hurt it.

I knew my pistol and sniper inside and out, however. I found comfort and peace in dismantling and cleaning my guns. The menial task was almost relaxing after what felt like days of straight combat and fighting. I needed this moment to reaffirm myself and to allow all the adrenalin to fade out of my system.

Sliding the upper-receiver back on my pistol, I cocked it and pulled the trigger. The dry _click_ of the hammer falling let me know I had replaced everything correctly. I pulled a magazine - freshly dried and reloaded - and pressed it back into my gun. I pulled the slide back and released it, hearing it slam home with a fresh round in the chamber. I laid it on my uninjured side and picked up my sniper. I had finished cleaning it earlier, but the familiar weight was comforting in my hands. I turned it over and gazed at the butt-stock where Ace had carved. The pair of aces still brought a slight smile to my face as I ran my fingers over the scratches. "I still miss you, you know," I said out loud, as if Ace was in a place where he could hear me. "Every day, every minute. And I still don't forgive you."

If Ace had been here, he would have known exactly what to do. He probably would march me up to Dom right then - _'Right this second, Bri!' - _to tell him the truth. He wouldn't rest until everything in my life was put right. That was the kind of friend he was. And not just to me, either. He'd go to hell and back for everyone. It was what made me love him, and - in the end - what got him killed. Still, I missed having his warm voice calmly instructing me on how to fix whatever shamble my life was in. No matter what happened, I could always come to him for advice.

And, at the very least, he'd know how to clean that damn lancer correctly.

The fire crackled merrily beside me as the snow began to fall faster and thicker outside the broken window. For now, I was warm and relatively dry. I missed Sam's warm, furry body next to mine, but she'd be happy spending time with Momma. Eventually I'd have to make the fifteen mile trip south to return to the camp, but not tonight. I rearranged my items to catch the heat so they'd dry out overnight.

I had a few hours until daylight. The next day would bring its own drama and disappointment, but my eyes were already sinking closed. I laid back on the hard floor next to the fire. Ace's sniper rested on the ground along my side; my pistol laid under my hand. Breathing a sigh, I shut my eyes and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hopefully this chapter was a nice break from all the suspense and drama. Don't worry - it won't stay that way for long! **

**I'm going to keep the chapters kind of short so I can update more frequently. I'm really excited to write through Port Farrall! :D**

**Don't worry! In the next chapter Dom gets a very important conversation, as does Marcus. I won't reveal more (Spoilers!) but hopefully you guys can stick with me just a tad bit longer. **

**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review on your way out, if you don't mind!**


	20. The Long Road Ahead

Jacinto Military Base

Eight Years After E-Day

_"There could be no truce, no accommodation. Even humanity was divided; COG against Stranded, unforgivable and unforgiven."_

_-Professor Adam Fenix's thoughts on the separation of Humanity._

**Bri was relatively sure she was dreaming. She could vaguely remember falling asleep in her little closet at Jacinto's military base, but suddenly she found herself transported back into Bane's apartment. She could almost feel the nimbly texture of the burnt and ragged carpet beneath her bare feet. The thick scent of stale whisky and cigarettes choked her with a sudden, all-consuming fear. She never believed she would have to come back here, not ever. **

**A loud thumping from the other room jacked her breathing rate up. She stared at the dingy white door in fear as the sound got closer and closer and **_**closer**_**. The door slammed open and banged against the nearby wall, leaving a small dent in the drywall. White dust sprinkled along the floorboards as her worst nightmare appeared before her.**

**Bane looked like hell. His long, string-like black hair was filthy and greasy. Black stubble decorated his thin jaw; sweat glistened on his pallid skin. His eyes were wild with a drunken rage and his yellow teeth were gnashed together like a predator baring its canines. His unwashed, putrid scent invaded Bri's small space and sent her heart into a gallop. She shrank back against the wall as he stalked forward. Grabbing her around the neck, his long, dirty fingernails scraped along the tender skin of her throat. "You're **_**mine**_**..." he hissed.**

**"What the fuck is this?" he snarled at her. A bowl of rice and beans appeared out of nowhere in that mystical way dreams had. He snatched the scratched and slightly dented bowl off of the counter and shoved it at her. "You trying to poison me? Or maybe you thought I wouldn't notice uncooked rice in my meal." **

**"I-I boiled it for an extra five minutes!" Bri protested. Her voice had adopted that scared, high pitched voice that she hadn't used since living with Bane. She felt terrified in a way she hadn't for so long.**

**"That's a damn lie." He shook the bowl angrily, spilling the sauce and rice on the carpeted floor. Bri watched as he stormed out of the living room, then out of the house, slamming the door on his way out.**

**Her eyes watered with fresh tears as she knelt on the floor to clean up his mess. She tried to pluck the warm, sticky grains of rice from the filthy carpet, but her hands were shaking badly. She had to wait for the shiver to leave her spine before she could continue. Dread pressed down on her chest and she felt like she was drowning with fear. **

**The front door opened behind her.**

**"Get up!" Bane snarled at her. "Come here, get up."**

**His dirty hand reached out and snatched at her wrist, yanking her to her feet and closer to him. He forcefully opened her fist and dropped in five, small pebbles. **

**"Put these in your mouth."**

**"What? I - "**

**"**_**Put them in your god-damn mouth!"**_** he roared at her. His powerful hands clasped her jaw, and, pressing two fingers against her mouth and prying it open, forced the cold, hard pebbles into it. Bri struggled against him, mumbling, but she was no match for him. He released her, but she didn't dare spit out the bits of crushed rock lest he beat her for it. **

**"Now chew," he said. **

**Bri whimpered against the rocks as saliva built up in her mouth. Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she murmured a plea for mercy. **

**"CHEW!" he bellowed. His whiskey-stained breath blew over her in a stomach-turning wave of scent. **

**Whimpering once more, she moved her jaw up and down, mimicking a chewing motion. One of the pebbles caught between her rows of teeth and something cracked in the back of her mouth. **

**"That's what it's like eating your food," he snarled at her before turning and heading back out the front door. Bri fell to her knees and spat out a mixture of rock, spit, blood, and a broken teeth. Pressing a hand to her sore mouth, she tried to hold back the sobs coming from her throat. **

**A door slammed open, jerking her back to reality. Bane's apartment was replaced by the slightly cramped room in Jacinto's military base. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up on her cot. Bane was gone. The rocks were gone. She wasn't helpless anymore. She **_**wasn't. **_

**"Come on Bri," Ace's warm voice called to her. "Time to get up. You'll be late for school."**

**"Fine," she mumbled. She laid back on her cot and stared up at the ceiling, trying to get the last verges of the dream to fade from her consciousness.**

**Ace didn't leave, however. Instead, he walked further into the room. "You okay? Another nightmare?"**

**"I'm fine!" she snapped at him. Her voice was more bitter than he was expecting. "Just...leave me along, okay?" He stared at her for a while longer before acquiescing and leaving her room. She didn't move for a long time afterwards. Her jaw ached with the memory of the dream. Even now, so far away from Bane and his horrors, he still continued to haunt her. She suspected she'd never truly be free of him. The fear he'd implanted in her heart would never completely fade away.**

**When she finally did stir and get dressed for school, her tongue wouldn't leave that spot in her mouth alone; that spot where her tooth was missing. Well, not **_**missing**_**. She knew exactly where it was.**

**It laid somewhere on Bane's floor, along with five bloody pebbles and a pile of sticky rice.**

* * *

It was a mixture of the cold and the shock of my dream that finally drove me from my sleep. Cold, bitter wind blew in from the broken window. Snow flurries danced along the air and settled across the room, giving it a whitewash look. My fire had gone out during the night; all that was left of it was a pile of charred, blackened embers. Stretching my arms out above me, I felt each of my sore muscles begin to protest the sudden movement. The morning after a fight was always awful; pain was always worse the next day.

I looked around the room. The abandoned building looked like a million other derelict and decrepit places I had stayed before on my own. After Ace's death, it took me a while to figure out how to find a good, safe place to stay. I didn't know what to look for: didn't know to stay away from signs of recent use, didn't know how to spot the difference between a building that was sturdy and one that was bound to fall at any moment, didn't know to find a room with proper ventilation so a camp fire wouldn't choke you in your sleep. It took a while - a long, hard while - before all of these things became second nature. It was a wonder I'd ever made it out alive. I didn't sleep well back then; I didn't sleep very well now, anyway.

My stuff was relatively dry, so I packed it away in a moderately organized order. I pulled a ration bar out for breakfast and carefully folded the foil wrapper and tucked it into an empty pocket. Nothing was to be thrown away - everything that could possibly be reused would be.

I snapped the bar in half out of reflex and held it out for Sam. When she didn't automatically snatch the crumbly, brown block from my hand I had to do a double take. Realizing her absence was like a kick in the gut; I _had _to go get her. The world just felt wrong without her warm, furry body walking contentedly next to mine. I ate both halves of the bar before grabbing my stuff and heading out. The only evidence that I had ever been there was the charred pile of black in the corner.

First item on my agenda was a shower. I was sick of feeling gross and sticky, and I wanted - no _needed -_ to wash the filth of Jacinto's streets off of my body. After emergency services had been set up - food and water tents, and ramshackle shelter - hygiene would have been first on the list. Disease would spread quickly in a shanty town such as this. Even if the emergency corps hadn't gotten the bathing facilities up and running yet, I'd scrub down with snow. It wouldn't be my first time washing up with icy water, and I was certain it wouldn't be my last.

Luckily, I wouldn't have to resort to the off-white snow decorating the town to clean myself with. The bath house was easily recognized - just off to the right of the town center, and a line sprawling out for half a block. I frowned; despite the early morning, I'd still have to wait for a while to wash up. If I waited until later, I was sure that the line would be even longer.

Positioning myself at the back of the queue, I pulled out my map and started calculating the distance back to the camp. The thin paper was brittle with water-wear and the ink was smudged slightly. I had to squint to find the thin text printed upon the page. "Port Farrall," I whispered aloud when I found it, tasting the words on my lips. I scanned the printed letters over and over again, re-adjusting my eyes to reading the slightly stooped symbols. It had been so long since I had anything to read, had any _reason_ to read, that I felt a pang of nostalgia staring at the map. I knew the areas most frequented by gears for missions, knew the best hunting spots, knew how to maneuver myself around this new world by heart. It wasn't often I had to consult a map.

Shaking myself of the memories of homework and reading assignments - mostly assigned by Ace when I was younger - I started calculating distance. The scale was easy: one inch for every five miles. There were three inch-wide blocks between the camp and the Port. Fifteen miles.

Fifteen miles in this weather would kill someone.

"Okay, so...not walking," I murmured, just as another gust of bone-chilling wind snatched at the paper in my hand. That meant either waiting for the weather to clear up - which could be months - or begging a ride off of somebody. I knew from experience that nobody gave away anything for free anymore. A ride meant hours away from home and safety, fuel, and exposing themselves to danger. Plus, not many would be so keen to travel off to a Stranded camp. At least, not for free. I'd have to come up with something to trade for a ride there and back. There was no way I'd part with any of my guns, so that meant food. I'd have to go hunting, and _soon_.

The line jostled forward a few yards, and I followed the herd. With my head dug into my map, it took me a while to hear the hushed whispers around me. Gradually I became aware that those hushed whispers were about _me._

"What's her kind doing here? We don't need Stranded in our camp."

"Calm down. We don't know if she really is Stranded. We're all looking all sorts of rough nowadays, remember?"

"Come on! Look at her guns! Who the hell carries weapons now, besides the COG and Stranded? All other guns were collected for the war effort, if you don't remember."

The whispers were coming from a pair of women further up ahead, but who were staring back at me. A dirty-blonde glared accusingly at my pack and guns, while the brunette stood off to the side with an uncertain look on her face. She looked like she was slowly becoming convinced by the incisive blonde. To drive her point back home, the blonde spat another accusation my way. "Besides, we may look rough, but not like _that_. Only a Stranded could look _that_ trashy."

Staring angrily at the frozen ground, I felt my cheeks inflame with embarrassment and anger. _Yeah, a Stranded who almost got herself killed trying to save your worthless lives..._The thought ran sharply through my mind like the blade of a dagger. It wasn't just the gears who had a grudge against Stranded, oh no. The hatred was even stronger among the civilians. I'd somehow forgotten that during the long years away from Jacinto. However, just because I was bound to be treated like a second-class citizen didn't mean I had to sit silently and accept it.

"You got something to say? Say it to my face," I snapped angrily. My jaw clenched tightly against the torrid of curses I was dying to send her way.

The brunette, to her credit, at least had the common decency to look embarrassed, but the blonde stared back at me without wavering. "Yeah, I got something to say," she said, with equal amounts of venom in her voice. "I wanna know what the hell a Stranded piece of shit thinks she's doing in our camp. You think you can walk right in and _steal_ from us?"

I almost retorted that I hadn't taken a _damn_ thing from anyone I didn't deserve, but I stopped short. It wouldn't exactly be easy to convince the general population that I wasn't taking from the COG when I had a COG-issued lancer strapped to my back, and the smell of a ration-bar on my breath. "Come on," the brunette urged her loud-mouthed friend. "Let's just go."

The pair vacated the line, but not without a parting blow from the blonde. "Stranded don't belong in society. They're animals - filthy, stinking animals that deserve the same fate as the Locust." With that, they disappeared into the growing crowd and sunlight.

Her words felt like the final punch thrown in a fight. A fight I never even saw coming, not even a little.

Maybe my time in Port Farrall would be more dangerous than anyone would have ever guessed.

* * *

I made it through my shower with little-to-no interaction with the rest of the group. Anger still pulsed through my veins at the unfairness of the blonde's words, so I didn't enjoy the luke-warm shower as much as I would have normally. The carbolic soap had stung on fresh abrasions and cuts; my burn wound had pulsed angrily under the stream of water. The water had been on a timer to get everyone through the line as quick as possible, so now my skin felt slightly sticky, like I hadn't quite gotten all the soap off. I'd taken the rough, grey towel out of the bathing area and wrapped it around my head to stop my wet hair from freezing against my scalp. There had been a woman passing out clothing at the end of the line, so I had scooped up a threadbare sweatshirt and a pair of black cargos. I planned on passing them on once I had a chance to wash my own clothes.

The blonde woman's words still echoed hauntingly in my head. I tried to justify taking the clothing with my fighting the grubs in Jacinto, but some small part of me wasn't buying it. That same part had adopted the woman's voice and resonated in my mind with the same message, played over and over. _"You're not good enough. You don't deserve this. You're not good enough. You don't deserve this..." _I tried to ignore the small, taunting voice, but the borrowed clothing didn't quite fit comfortably anymore.

The rest of the camp still had that shell-shocked feeling to it. It was a feeling I was quite familiar with; every time humanity said that things couldn't _possibly_ get any worse, they did. And after they did, humanity stood around for a few days afterward and tried to get used to the next layer of hell they were thrown into. It wouldn't take long for the shock to wear off, however. Once it did people would either get very scared or very angry. Neither was a good option in times like this.

Now that I was relatively clean, my next step was to get my lancer in the same condition. I had a mental list going in my mind, and I mentally checked off each item as I went through it. Step one was a shower; step two was to get my lancer clean. Step three: reveal to Dom that I was his long-lost daughter that he abandoned when she was four years old to be raised by an abusive drunk in an apocalyptic shit-hole. Easy, right?

"Piece of cake," I muttered under my breath. I maneuvered my way through the rapidly-growing crowd as the sun climbed higher in the sky, searching for a familiar face. A hasty command center had been set up in the heart of the city. Other important buildings - barracks, armory, and garage - would spring up around it. The gears who weren't currently patrolling the outside of the Port would most likely be hanging around there. Someone would hopefully be willing to toss me an instruction manual, if any still existed.

I saw Cole long before I saw anyone else. How could I not? He was the only gear crazy enough to go with bare arms in this sort of weather. The air was so cold that it hurt to breathe it in. Watching his dark skin ripple as he worked made me shiver in sympathy. "Yo, Cole!" I called up to him. "You got a sec'?"

"Hey, Lil' Sis!" he hollered to me in his booming voice. I had to crane my neck all the way back just to look him in the eyes. As he moved out of the way, I saw he had been speaking to Anya and Sergeant Mataki - the same Mataki I'd met at breakfast what felt like a lifetime ago. At least they both had more appropriate clothing on. Both of their faces were graven, and that more than anything clued me into the tone of their conversation. It was serious, despite Cole's levity.

"What's going on?" I asked, my tone sharp. I pressed my mental checklist to the back of my mind. Whatever they were talking about was more important now.

"Nothing," Mataki snapped quickly. Her sharp voice surprised me; what had I done to piss her off? Her grey eyes stared coldly into mine and I got the feeling that she didn't trust me - not even a little bit. There was a tense moment as I raised my eyebrows at the elder sniper in shock. There was something about me she didn't like. Something that may-or-may-not be an issue in the future.

Cole wrapped a heavy arm around my shoulders. It surprised me how warm he was, despite his bare arms. "It's cool, Bernie," Cole said, but his tone was slightly worried. "She was down there with them. She knows what happened."

Finally, it hit me. They were talking about Dom and what happened in the Hollow. No wonder Mataki was so malicious towards me; she was trying to protect Dom from prying eyes. I squirmed uncomfortably under Cole's arm. This was probably the _last_ thing I wanted to discuss. "Uhm...I was actually just looking for Baird. Any idea where he's at?"

Baird wasn't exactly the kind of helpful person I had in mind, but he was the first name that popped into my head. I'd do anything to get out of discussing this. Even - and I'd probably end up regretting this - enduring Baird's presence for the better part of the day. Cole cocked an eyebrow in surprise, "You and Damon Baby? Err...sure, he's over by the motor-pull. Keep walking about a block in that direction. You'll probably find him chest-deep in some engine somewhere."

I nodded, pulled out from under his arm, and started walking away. "Thanks. See you guys later."

Anya and Cole chorused a good-bye - Cole's face still slightly positioned in a state of surprise - but Mataki only dismissed me with a detached nod. Something about me bothered her, but I wasn't sure what. Hell, right now? I wasn't sure I even cared.

The streets were slowly becoming more and more crowded. It wasn't a rushed crowd, however. The people were just standing around, some talking, some not. There was nowhere to go, nothing urgent to do. They were a scared group with no direction. If it was back at the Stranded camp, Dix would have had their asses for doing nothing. The civilians in Jacinto were different, however. They had gears and others to provide for them. The government had reinforced the "Leave it to us" attitude among their constituents, so they did. Once the gears told people what to do, they'd do it, but until then they stood in the streets with that 'Deer-in-the-headlights' look.

I turned the corner around a building, heading towards the outer edge of the city. I looked down to adjust the straps of my sidearm, and almost walked face-first into the chest-plate of an armored gear. "Oh, excuse-" I started to say until I caught sight of the gear in question.

It was Marcus.

Immediately my guard went up. Almost without my meaning me, my stance widened and muscles tensed. That 'Fight or Flight' feeling made the tiny hairs on my arms stand straight up. It was a ridiculous reaction, but that realization didn't keep the suspicious note out of my tone as I snapped, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Marcus' expression didn't shift in the slightest. "Looking for you."

"Of course you are." I just didn't expect him to be so upfront about it. "_What for?"_

I figured he wanted to talk about Dom - probably wanted to convince me to have that conversation with him. Well...tough. I wasn't going to have that conversation until I was good and ready. Which, judging by my reaction upon seeing Marcus, wouldn't be for a very, _very_ long time. Maybe never.

"I just want to talk," he said in a neutral rumble.

"Go ahead and talk," I snapped off in a snarl. "Didn't say anything about me listening."

For a brief moment, I considered walking off. I didn't owe Marcus anything - far from it, actually. I didn't _have_ to listen to whatever he wanted to talk about. Curiosity got the better of me, however, and instead of storming off in a dramatic manner I fixed my expression in a sour glare and waited.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

_That_ threw me for a second. Marcus didn't strike me as one who apologized often, or at least not somebody who did things he _needed_ to apologize for. "Well then," I spat bitterly in an attempt to cover up my surprise. "Congratulations. Looks like everything is forgiven. No hard feelings, and all that shit."

Marcus wasn't stupid enough to believe my sarcasm. He just continued to look at me with that slightly chilling, 'I'm-trying-to-read-your-thoughts' stare. His expression unnerved me more than anything. Talk at me all you want - I knew how to fight with words. Just don't stare at me and expect _me_ to talk. That's usually when I got myself in trouble. Not this time, however. This time I was going to be as quiet and stoic as Marcus himself. My lips were _sealed_.

"Here's an idea, Marcus, why don't you friggin' _tell me_ next time you know an earth-shattering secret about me?"

Okay..._mostly _as quiet and stoic as Marcus.

"Deal." Marcus stared at me for a second longer before reaching a hand into a pouch on his belt. Fishing for something hidden within there, he finally came back with a small, silver chain. A heart-shaped pendant dangled upon the child-sized chain. The pendant caught and reflected the brilliant light off of the snow at our feet. It turned over and revealed my mother and brother's mockingly happy faces, smiling forever out at the world.

"_My locket..._" I whispered on a shocked gasp. But...it was lost in the Hollow! I...I'd dropped it when...

"I picked it up for you," Marcus explained. His hand was outstretched, offering me back my link to the past, to a better world. "Figured that if you held on to it for fifteen years, it's gotta mean something."

Speechless, I reached out and took the necklace from his hand. I turned it over in my palm and rubbed my fingers over my initials embedded on the sides. _S.C..._the last letter had been lost when the locket broke on E-day. These letters, however, held new meaning to me. _Sylvia Carla._ My name. A real person, unlike this 'Bri' persona I'd adopted. I wavered on the edge between the two realities. Neither one truly felt like me - not completely. How could I expect they ever would?

"T-thank you," I stuttered breathlessly. My cheeks burned in embarrassment when I remembered the brash way I'd treated Marcus only seconds beforehand.

"He's a good man," Marcus said to me in all seriousness. His blue eyes burned with fervor and there was no question that he was talking about Dom. "He deserves to be happy. Be angry at me all you want, I don't care. Hate me for the rest of your life, but try to make things right with him."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just nodded slightly. The anger and ire I'd felt when I first bumped into Marcus was gone. He started to move around me, but paused for a parting sentence.

"Believe me," he said, "There are worse people to have for a father."

* * *

The motor-pull was just an area of open ground. All the Ravens, 'Dills, and Centaurs were parked there. It was an eerie graveyard of machine and weaponry. A few Ravens and things were still in use - mostly used to patrol the camp and keep an eye out for Locust stragglers - but for the most part the armada of the COG laid silent and lingering. There wasn't enough fuel to run the engines.

Marcus' parting words still resonated in my mind. It hadn't taken me but a second to remember who his father was - Professor Adam Fenix. Savior of the world and slayer of humanity. He was the creator of the Hammer of Dawn system - the same system that was used to demolish the world in an effort of "asset-denial". He was the main reason that the Stranded hated the COG so much. He was also - some said - the reason humanity was still around today. Love him or hate him, everyone knew Professor Adam Fenix. I'd imagine Marcus knew him much better than the rest of us.

I heard metal clanging on metal and a low, muttered oath. _Found him..._I thought to myself. "Baird?" I called out. "You back here?"

"Dammit!" I heard him holler back. "You stupid, _stupid_, piece of-!"

I held back a smirk. Ninety-percent sure he wasn't talking to me, I navigated through the jungle of rubber tires and shaped metal until I caught sight of him. He was tucked underneath the hood of a 'Dill; the only part of him I could see was his legs and backside. I stared for a second and appreciated the view. It wasn't a _bad _view, after all...

_Stop it!_ I snapped at myself. I almost called out to him, but I remembered the grey towel wrapped around my scalp. I snatched the ragged cloth off of my head, and then tried not to look too hard at my reasons for doing so. "Hey," I called to get his attention. "That 'Dill kicking your butt?"

He emerged from under the hood. He had swipes of oil coating his skin and, in his hand, held some complicated looking metal part. "The damn distributor seating is cracked. Hell if I know where to find a new one. I guess I'll just fix it - again - until it breaks - _again._" He tossed the sliver metal onto the hood of a nearby tailgate, and then turned to examine me. "You're not here because of that, though. Why _are_ you here, and what can I do to change that?"

I joined him by the open tailgate and placed my lancer besides his engine part. "This," I answered. "It took a dip back in Jacinto. I'm sure I can clean the gun parts, but the chainsaw mechanisms might be a bit past me. Figured I'd ask someone before I broke a pin or something."

"You came to the right place," he muttered, taking my weapon in one hand. I was braced for a sarcastic remark but all he did was turn it over so he could see what he was doing. "See this take-down pin here? Depress it to release the rear hinge There's your trigger mechanisms and shit. I'm sure you can figure out how to clean that. But," he continued, flipping the gun over to reveal the chainsaw part, "rotating the rear hinge allows you to take the chain off. Pull the fuel port and air vent like..._so_...and, there you go. The rest you can scrub down without worry."

I examined the dismantled gun interestedly. It had been a while since I'd taken a lancer apart, but memories of doing the same thing with Ace flooded my mind. Baird pulled the parts out of my hand and put the lancer back together. "You're turn," he said, passing the lancer back over. "Take it apart."

Now that I remembered what I was doing, taking apart the gun was a piece of cake. I took it one step farther than what he showed me; I dropped the firing pin - carefully, since it was spring-loaded - then spun the bolt cam-pin counterclockwise to remove it. The bolt separated from the carrier group in my hands.

Baird didn't look impressed, but I hadn't expected him to. He grunted before picking up his engine part - the distributor, I think he called it. Car parts _were_ a bit out of my grasp. I knew enough emergency maintenance, but vehicles weren't my forte. I'd never scavenge enough fuel or parts to keep one running properly. I hopped up on the tailgate beside the dismantled lancer and got to work scrubbing down the metal bits with my wire brush.

I worked contentedly in the silence for a while. I could hear Baird tinkering under the 'Dill's hood and occasionally he'd curse, but that was it. His usual steady stream of never-ending sarcasm was silent. That was the first clue I got that something was wrong.

Setting aside my gun barrel, I started watching Baird work instead. There wasn't anything obvious that hinted as something being wrong - he worked methodically under the hood - but there was still something..._off_. Baird didn't do silence. "You alright over there?" I finally asked.

He didn't answer immediately, which confirmed my suspicions. His hands stopped flying over the labyrinth of engine parts but he didn't turn to face me. _Clue number two..._ Finally, when he _did_ turn around, his smirk was gone. Instead, he looked almost..._worried_.

"Let me ask you something," he began after a second. "You were down in the Hollow with them, right? What _happened _down there? The only thing Dom said about it was that he found Maria, and he 'helped her go'." He made little quotation marks in the air with his fingers on the last three words. "I mean, what the hell does _that_ mean?"

I froze, my fingers tightening on the bolt carrier until the sharp edges made indentation on my flesh. Maria's - _mom's_ - ghastly pale face flashed through my mind, along with the sudden, piercing gunshot. This was the exact conversation I had hoped to avoid by seeking out Baird. But...maybe it would be easier to talk things out with him. I didn't care what he thought about me, so I wouldn't be worried about losing face with him.

"We found her in a Locust torture cell," I finally answered once I found my voice. "She was...she was in bad shape. He...he, uh...he ended her suffering. Put a bullet through her skull."

Baird's blue eyes were wide with shock. He was a battle hardened gear, so it took a lot to have that impact on him. "Son of a bitch..." he breathed. "The man was...almost normal on the Raven. Not a word about it. When a guy blows his wife's brains out, you don't just shrug and carry on, do you?"

I couldn't help it - I winced at his bluntness. That wound was still so fresh and tender that the slightest prodding sent twinges of pain around my psyche. "Yeah, well...that's not all of it..."

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_-" I started to say, but halted on the third word. I couldn't tell him. _Could I_? From the looks of things, Marcus had kept this secret between us. If I planned on telling _anyone_ who I really was, Dom deserved to be the first to know. Except...the pressure and desire to tell _someone_ was building, threatening to burst. I needed somebody to talk to about this. Instead of telling him the whole story, I chose a difference tactic.

"Suppose - hypothetically - that you knew a secret," I began. "A secret about yourself. A secret that you _just_ found out about. And suppose - again, hypothetically - that you were _dying_ to be able to discuss this secret with someone, but you couldn't because this secret was also about someone else, and that someone else didn't know about the secret. And you're just drowning in secrecy and have no idea what to do and - "I stopped talking so abruptly that my mouth stayed frozen in the shape of my next words. Too late I realized I was rambling."Never mind...I'm not making any sense."

Baird was staring at me like I'd lost my mind. Who could blame him? There were times I looked at myself in the exact same way. "You...are _so_ lucky that you're talking to one in maybe three people still alive who stand a chance of deciphering that."

I rolled my eyes and focused on the sarcastic banter. I hadn't realized I'd started shaking during my disjointed ramblings. Trying to hide the tremble in my voice, I answered him. "Yeah, yeah, I know, 'Oh-Great-One'."

"Seriously, though. As crystal clear as _that_ was, I think I got it. You want to discuss something about another person, but are afraid it'll somehow get back to them. Well, don't worry. I may have a big mouth, but I don't use it to spread gossip. I'm here if you wanna talk."

For a brief moment, all I could do was stare at him in shock. I couldn't believe he actually understood me. Usually when I went on a disconnected ramble people either tuned me out or told me to shut up. The only person who typically understood me so easily was Ace, and he was long gone. We stared at each other - him leaning against the engine of the 'Dill, me still perched on the tailgate - and there was almost...an _understanding_ that passed between us. Maybe Baird was more insightful than people gave him credit for. People were just another form of machines, and I'd seen firsthand how good he was at dissecting anything technical. Maybe that same skill went further than anyone else could imagine.

"Thanks, Baird..." I said softly - more softly than I'd ever imagined talking to him.

He _harrumphed_ uncomfortably before turning away from me. He slammed the hood on the 'Dill and started gathering up the rest of his tools. "We gonna have to hug now or something?" he growled in my direction. I smirked as I started putting back together my clean lancer. I didn't answer, but that was okay. It was almost like meeting Baird - the real Baird, not the sarcastic bastard persona he put on for everyone - for the first time. Maybe he wasn't all bastard; that half of his personality was probably just a front to protect himself. _That_ was something I understood all too well.

Just as I punched the take-down pin back into position, the faint sound of screaming reached my ears. My eyes snapped up to meet Baird's. We paused for maybe half a second before leaping to our feet and sprinting through the maze of military vehicles. The cacophony of gunfire beginning could be heard on the other side of the city. All the inert people I'd noted earlier in the streets were running and screaming in panic. There was only one thing that could cause this kind of panic. As Baird and I rounded another corner, I found my darkest nightmares had followed us here.

Locust. Locust were in the middle of the city.

_Oh no..._

* * *

**Author's Note: Dun, dun, DUN! Things are beginning to pick up again! **

**Lot of dialog in this chapter, but still not the conversation everyone's been waiting for. Don' worry, that WILL be in the next chapter. Pinky swear. As soon as I get through my finals at school, I'll have it up. I've actually already been working on it already. :)**

**So, what did you think? Was the dream-within-a-dream at the beginning of the chapter alright? Can you feel the tension building already between Stranded and Civilian? What about Mataki - was she just protecting Dom, or does she have a vendetta against Bri? I want to know what you think!**

**Oh, and did everyone enjoy the subtle flirting between Baird and Bri? ;)**

**Hopefully you'll leave a review on your way out? I promise I'll send you a preview of the next chapter if you do! At any rate, thanks so much for reading! :D**


	21. Mid-day Massacre

Port Farrall

Present Day

_"There is a chain that connects all events, Dom. Our lives are all links in it. One day, at one moment, you will look back at the events in your life, and Carlos', and Marcus', and Maria's, and you will see that the chain could only ever have been made one way. You will see and understand the purpose of your life and death, and you will have perfect clarity and peace."_

_- Tai Kaliso speaking to Dominic Santiago after the imprisonment of Marcus Fenix._

The screaming and crying increased in frequency and volume until it - combined with the gunfire - reached a deafening level. Baird and I bolted towards the center of the city while others ran away from the danger. The crowd of mindless, motionless civilians that I had waded through before now became a frenzied, frantic, tidal wave that pushed and heaved at us so we had to fight for every step we took. The panic was palpable; fear tainted the air thick enough to taste in the back of one's throat. Even though the civvies were far enough away from the danger, they understood as well as any Gear what was happening.

The grubs were back.

It was supposed to be _over_. The grubs were supposed to have drowned in their tunnels. That belief had lulled all of us into a false sense of security; of _course_ there would be stragglers. There would have been grubs above ground, in higher tunnels, in areas the water wouldn't reach them. We should have almost been _expecting _this. Or, at the very least, _I_ should have expected this. But I hadn't. I'd become so wrapped up in my own issues and drama that I'd forgotten the danger we were all still in. And now people were dying.

The center of the city - where food and supplies were distributed - was always a busy place. Of course,_ of course_, the grubs would attack there. I was close enough to see the individual flashes of gunfire and feel the heat from the battle, but I couldn't identify where the grubs were. There were too many civilians running around in panic. We were now running against a tide of civvies heading in all directions, some people clutching the grab bags they'd been so thoroughly drilled to snatch and run when disaster struck. It was a blind flight; they could have been running straight into more grubs but I had no way or knowing or stopping them.

Finally, we broke through to where the battle was taking place. There was a couple dozen drones spraying the food center while a Berserker went on a killing rampage. The mindless bitch flailed her muscular arms around in a deadly frenzy. Berserkers were savage beasts, even by grub standards. The only thing that stopped them from killing everything in sight - including fellow grubs - were their riders. The rider's reins whipped uselessly in the air along with the jockey's dead body, held in place by the stirrups that had become his grave. She'd probably led them here - tracked the human scent left by the mass migration away from Jacinto. She'd sniffed out the same humans that were now clumped together - some alive, some not - by the entrances of the building. People were either rushing to get away from the building or to get _into_ the building, searching for a sense of safety that would never exist. The confusion just led to a disjointed clump of death.

Cover was scarce. Usually, in urban warfare, there were burned out cars to hide behind, collapsed buildings or walls, or even alleyways to duck down and flank the enemy. All of that had been cleared away to make room for people - people who now lay dead in the streets. Trying hard - very, _very_ hard - not to think about it, I ducked behind a small mound of dead bodies and used the corpses as cover. I noticed they were still warm as I balanced my lancer on the chest of a middle-age woman and fired at the locusts.

I resorted to instinct and reflex during the fight. Fighting - and killing, for that matter - was easy; it was everything else that was so damn difficult. A ring of gears surrounded the food center, drawing the grub's fire away from the civilians and toward ourselves. It didn't matter, however. The civilians were still caught in the cross-fire. When the fighting was done, how many COG bullets would we pull out of our own people? How many would die by the hands of their so-called heroes?

The Berserker was still flailing wildly in the streets. Driven purely by blind rage, I watched as she killed a grub with a single blow to the head and then continued beating his lifeless body into a bloody pulp on the ground. Standard rounds wouldn't penetrate her thick hide; only a Centaur round could do that. I was sure that there was one on its way, but I had no idea when it would arrive. The streets were still overly-congested with the fleeing civilians and gears trying to get people to safety - whatever that meant. It wouldn't exactly be an easy journey for a wide-set Centaur to reach the center of the camp.

"Baird!" a familiar voice hollered over the cacophony of battle. The shout echoed next to me, but fainter, more mechanical and through a gear's earpiece. With a jolt I realized that Baird had stuck next to me throughout the battle, using the same mound of corpses as protection. I had been focused on the grubs; not the soldier next to me. Baird and I both turned toward the original shout and saw Dom sprinting towards out position. He had almost made it - _almost_ cleared the meters of exposed ground - but the Berserker scented him at the last second.

The Berserker turned and focused on him.

_Oh...shit..._

She opened her mouth and let forth a raucous roar of blood-lust and fury. Her fists - already stained a deep red from the blood of the fallen - fell towards the ground as she positioned herself in a mockery sprinter's form. Even at a distance, I could see her muscles tense and bind as she prepared to launch herself forward at her new victim. Her blind eyes settled on my father as she began to charge.

"_Run!"_ I shrieked as I jumped to my feet and prepared to follow my own advice. I wasn't fast enough, however, couldn't _move_ fast enough. There was no way I could reach him before the Berserker; the only thing I could do was watch him die.

Dom followed my advice, but in the precisely _wrong_ way. His dark eyes glinted with rage as he charged the Berserker. _He fuckin' charged the Berserker._ I knew first-hand the kind of shit that went through one's mind during battle - knew the anger, and rage, and straight up _fury_ that drove men to heroic acts. But that's the thing about heroes - they're all dead. They die doing the exact stupid stunts my father was pulling, because when the adrenalin starts pumping the mind clicks off. I knew that - I was guilty of it as well. Instinct and reflex take over and you never once stop to think that what you're doing could kill you. You don't think, because thinking is hard. Dying is easy.

Even though I knew I was too late - knew that I could never reach him in time - I vaulted over the clump of bodies at my feet and prepared to sprint forward. I never got the chance, however. Baird grabbed the back of my jacket just as a Centaur came rolling through on my left. The giant tank took up the rest of the street and would have struck and killed me if Baird hadn't reached out and grabbed me. The huge tires rolled past so close that I could smell them; could taste the heady rubbery smell that caught on the back of my throat. I could hear the missile launcher click on top of the Centaur as it prepared to fire, but it was too late. The Berserker was still charging; my father was still going to die.

The pin dropped; the shell ejected; the missile was launched. Burning gunfire propelled the five-pound bullet towards the Berserker and my father. Hot, burning residue rained down on me and Baird, making the world feel much too hot and too cold all at the same time. The blast deafened me to the world as if the volume had been turned all the way down on a radio. All that was left was a high-pitched ringing in my ears and a bloodless, numb feeling in my chest that let me know my father was dead.

I'm not quite sure what happened next. One moment Dom was _there_, in the path of the projectile, and the next second he was not. The Berserker went down as the missile struck her in the chest, but she wasn't dead. The Centaur rolled forward to finish her and the rest of the grubs off and Baird released his hold on me. With all the adrenalin in my system, the world looked _wrong._ It was blurry and over-focused all at the same time. I had trained myself to look only at grey, mottled skin during a firefight, so it took a moment for me to recognize the familiar form of Dom lying sprawled out on the ground where Marcus had tackled him.

Marcus had saved him when I could not. At the last second, Marcus had tackled Dom around the waist and dragged him out of danger. That was his job. Something very close to relief joined the adrenalin in my veins as it pumped around in my system. It was over. The grubs were dead, the Berserker was dead, and Dom was alive - despite his best efforts to be otherwise. The past couple of seconds had felt like _hours_.

"Are you fucking _insane?!" _That was Marcus, yelling at Dom. The answer was yes - of course he was - but that was okay. So was the rest of the human populace. Marcus sank back on his knees and watched with a slightly frantic gaze as Dom picked himself up off the ground. Marcus grabbed his shoulder tightly as if he was going to try and shake some sense into him. "Dom, don't do this. _You're going to get through it._ There's no point in beating these assholes if you throw your life away."

"Sorry man," Dom answered in a voice that was trying hard to sound normal, but wasn't quite there. "I just get mad."

And that was that. My world had almost ended - _again_ - because he had gotten pissed off for a split-second. He was pissed off and wanted to die because he couldn't rescue Maria in time. Apparently, his life was meaningless without Maria in it - even incognito Maria. I know that's what had been going through his mind, because I had been there. I had once wanted to throw my life away because I was meaningless. I hadn't saved the one thing that mattered to me in the whole world, so I wanted to die. I _deserved _to die. And that feeling never quite goes away, either. You just find a way of living with it.

More emotions piled onto my already over-loaded adrenal system, so I just blanked the whole thing. I went numb, so I wouldn't have to feel any of it. No guilt, no anger, no regret, no confusion, no nothing. Numbness was better than hurting.

Ignoring the fact that my father had just tried his damness to commit suicide, I turned away from where Marcus was helping him to his feet. I could feel Marcus' eyes on my back but I wasn't going to deal with it. Not now. Preferably not ever. If Sam had been here I would have snuck off into some deep, dark pit with her by my side and buried my head into her warm fur. Her soft side would hide any tears that might have fallen, and her scent could have erased the smell of burnt flesh and gunpowder that felt permanently etched into my sinuses. She was the best therapist the world over. Maybe I could get Dom a dog, and I wouldn't have to worry about him offing himself in the next battle.

Baird was talking into his comm unit with his head turned away from everyone to hear well. I caught the name 'Cole' with some light jargon following it, so I assumed he was alive as well. That was good. My eye caught sight of the Centaur's bloody tire tracks and I remembered how Baird had pulled me out of death's grip. I waited until he finished his conversation before speaking up.

"I supposed I should thank you for not letting me become road-kill."

His blue eyes - much warmer and more interesting than Marcus' - caught my gaze. He thought my 'thank you' over for a second, probably wondering if I was being sincere, before rolling his neck. "Yeah, well...the blowback would have hit my armor. I have better things to do tonight than wash squished Bri out of my plates."

Normally his graphic response would have made me grimace, but I didn't care. Numb, remember? Completely numb. Too late I realized he was probably expecting a response to that. I didn't really care, however. Standing in the middle of the mid-day massacre, social norms took a backseat. My ears still rang slightly with that high-pitched, irritating tone, but now the silence hummed just as loud. There was no more gunfire, no explosions, no screaming. The battle had ended, along with so many lives. The streets ran red with blood as the arduous task of clearing the dead began. The civilians who had fled at the beginning of the fight came slowly trickling back to search through the dead and the dying for those capable of being saved.

I could feel Baird's eyes on me, but I couldn't meet his gaze. Unwillingly, my eyes went back to the mound of corpses used as cover by me and Baird. I hadn't taken the time to look - actually _look_ - at the faces and identities of the bodies before. I should never have looked. The middle-age woman who had served as a stable rest for my lancer looked all too familiar. Swallowing down a deep-seated feeling of dread, I brushed back her blood-stained blonde hair out of her face.

It was the woman from earlier today; the one who accused me of being nothing more than a Stranded thief.

_No..._ I thought with regret as I stared down at her corpse. When I had talked to her earlier - fought with her, more like - her expression had been twisted into an angry scowl. Now her face was etched with terror. Her last moments had been filled with fear and chaos. Nobody deserved to die like that, not even self-righteous bitches.

"Friend of yours?" Baird asked me.

Not answering, I knelt beside her and closed her fear-stricken dead eyes. My hands came back stained with her blood - still warm. Had she still been alive as I balanced my lancer atop her chest? Could I have helped her? Would I have even noticed if she had been breathing?

"I've got to go," I finally said. I couldn't stay here; here in this city of death and destruction and fear. I would break down. I tried to hold onto that numb feeling in my chest, but the atmosphere and emotions of everyone surrounding me was slowly poisoning me.

"What?"

"I've got to go," I repeated. I finally met his gaze. "This place is filled with pain, and anger, and pressure...and disloyalty. I'm good on all that." My blood-soaked grip slipped on my lancer as I tried to explain it to Baird. I couldn't stay here; I just couldn't. "I just...I've got to get away from here."

"Where will you go?" Baird asked me. To his credit, he didn't ask me to explain. He just got it. I stared around me at the destruction, and the people working to replace it with order. I could stick around and help pull bodies out of the rubble - both Human and Locust - but honestly, something like that would break my heart all over again. It took me a second, but I finally came up with an idea that allowed me to run away, without letting everyone know I was actually _running away._

"You know," I said in a voice that didn't quite sound like me, "I think I'll go hunting."

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry this took forever. I've been dealing with some stuff like graduating (Yay!) and the death of someone close to me (not so yay…) and writing took a back seat. I haven't given up on this story, however! It's just…taking longer than I expected to get chapters out.**

**I know; I said this would be the Dom & Bri chapter, but I liked ending it there. The next chapter is almost done, so I'll probably have it out in a day or two. Promise!**

**Leave a review if you please telling me what you think! I hope you like this chapter, long-awaited as it is. Like I said, the next one will be out soon!**


	22. Hunting for Answers

Approximately Six Miles West of Port Farrell

Present Day

_"It doesn't matter. Guy or girl, young or old, Gear or Stranded. The common denominator is blood - it's all red. And there's a hell of a lot leaking out these days."_

- _A passing comment overheard in a Stranded camp after a particularly devastating attack was blamed upon the COG._

People have different stress-tolerance levels. Some people - like Marcus - seemed to be like an old oak tree. Those people allowed the world to crash and plummet around them without ever being affected. I wasn't one of them.

Other people have such low stress levels that they turn and run at the slightest hint of adversity. They were more like a feather, or maybe a leaf. They tumbled down with the slightest blowing of the wind. I wasn't one of these people either; or, at least, I didn't like to think myself one.

If I had to think of a metaphor for myself, it would have to be of the slightly discolored moss clinging frantically to the edge of a water-rock. I could hold my own, but only for so long. If the river's current got too strong, or the roots grew too weak, the moss would plummet deep down into the unforgiving water. I, like the moss, could only withstand so much. Eventually I had to take a break, or I would crumble.

Hunting was that reprieve.

The woods were startling quiet. Snow and cold drove many of the animals south during the winter. The icy feeling in the air dampened any sound left over. Even the few leaves that had yet to fall refused to rustle in the cold wind. The scrubby branches of nearly-bare trees cast thin shadows on the ground. My boots crunched on the inch or two of fresh snow that had fallen throughout the night. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, my ears were ringing without the constant buzz of gunfire and artillery. It was quiet, but not silent. There was a different between the world being at peace and it holding its breath in anticipation.

I knew these woods. Every step that took me further away from the city took me one step closer back to _myself_, and what I knew to be true. This was my retreat from the world and its cancerous plots that tore at you and twisted you up inside. Out here the only thing I needed to worry about was my footsteps and my breathing. A hunting trip was more restful to me than a night of sleep; they both worked to center the mind and revitalize the spirit. Just like in battle, my body overrode my psyche and I functioned on instinct alone. As long as I focused on the hunt, I wouldn't have to think about anything else.

Usually I had Sam as a hunting partner. I had taught her long ago how to track the fresh scent of game through the woods, but this time I'd have to resort to my own tracking skills. Sam's skills had come in very handy over the years. She was good at tracking fresh game, yes, but it was more than that. She could also detect recently laid explosives, movement of grubs, and could find someone who went missing. Because a dog's nose was so many thousand times better than a human's, she was almost as valuable an asset as my guns.

There was this one time, however, about two years ago. A boy - about ten years old - had gone missing from the camp. His father had been teaching him how to lay snares for small animals when they were attacked by a pack of wretches. They were separated in the confusion; the man made it back to the camp, the boy didn't. Immediately I had scented Sam off of the boy's pillowcase. The trail usually went cold pretty soon, so we'd have move quickly. It was turning dark soon as well; the Krill would have been on us by the end of the hour.

Sweat, fear, adrenalin...all of these together make a pungent scent that was easy for Sam to follow. The only thing slowing her down was us; we couldn't navigate the rough terrain as well as her paws could.

We found him in a pile of rubble. A dead body stops smelling like a live one almost immediately. There was enough blood splattered around the grave-site that even I could smell the thick, coppery scent in the air. The wretches had really taken their time with him; if I hadn't heard the wailing of his father behind me I wouldn't be sure it was him.

I had been staring at the boy's body, looking for a way to save him even though he was beyond any form of help. It took me a while to notice Sam's reaction. She had been whining and turning in a tight circle. She finally laid down and pressed her paws over her nose in an attempt to block out the scent. She didn't know what to do with herself; it was the first time she'd found something she didn't _want_ to find.

Now I was left feeling the same way she had. It was like trying to tread water in a hurricane. Every time I thought I'd gotten my head above water, a wave of despair and tragedy came crashing down over top me, pulling me back under. I had been perfectly fine not knowing who I was; now that I knew, I'd have to deal with it.

Not now, however. For now, I was on a mission. If I could find a large enough deer to trade for a ride to the Stranded Camp, I could get Sam back.

I lost track of how far I had walked. I didn't want to pay attention to my footsteps; I wanted to lose myself into the folds of the woods. For the moment I wasn't focused on the hunt. I just wanted to feel alright; wanted to feel..._better_. I just wanted to feel _anything_ besides the anger and hurt that had followed me like a dark shadow ever since Nexus. I was starting to lose my grip on my rock. I could have walked for miles in that unfocused, left-foot right-foot rhythm, but I still had a task to fulfill. This wasn't supposed to be just a stroll through the woods; this was a hunt. I was here to kill something.

Scanning the fresh snow for tracks, I stopped to place makeshift snares along the trails. I wouldn't buy a ticket to the Stranded camp on rabbit and vole, but I could always smoke the meat and either eat it or trade it later. At the very least, it would give me an excuse to come back later and check on them. An excuse to escape, should the need arise.

I had walked for quite a bit further when I caught my first glance at deer tracks. They were mildly clear; the snow still made it the easiest tracking job I'd ever had. Silently I unslinged my longshot and veered off to follow the deer's hoof prints. I could feel my muscles tense up again as I mentally shifted into hunting mode.

There was more walking, but not _walking_ exactly, more like stalking. I was careful about where I let my boots fall; I didn't want to make the slightest unnecessary sound. The deer had gone north, and then veered off slightly to the east. When I came across a pile of still-steaming droppings I moved upwind; I was close, _so_ close.

_There…_A flash of brown fur ducked through the trees about sixty yards ahead – not a problem for my longshot. Quickly, but quietly, I ducked down into a shooting position with my rifle resting on a sturdy tree branch. I gazed through the lens of my scope and lined up the reticles. It was an easy shot. The branches were almost bare; the white-washed world stood in stark contrast with the deep brown of the deer's flank. My muscles were already aching with the anticipation and victory of dragging its heavy carcass back to the Port.

It was a young buck with hardly any velvet left on his antlers. He was skittish; evidently he could hear something in the woods that I couldn't. It didn't matter, however. I _needed_ this deer. I followed him with the barrel of my rifle as he weaved cautiously through the trees. Lining up my crosshairs with the area just behind his shoulder blades, I waited for him to take one…_more…step…_

_Bang!_

I damn near dropped my rifle; my heart pounded frantically in my chest. I hadn't pulled the trigger! _I didn't pull the damn trigger!_ Just to be sure, I yanked back the bolt and examined the still-whole bullet resting in the chamber. It wasn't a mis-fire; it _wasn't my gun!_ I let the bolt slam forward again and anxiously scanned the woods for whoever else was hunting this area.

Reflex had made me drop behind the tree for cover, so I peeked out around the trunk. The deer had dropped immediately; whoever this mysterious hunter was, they were a good shot. From my distant vantage point I could tell their bullet pierced both the heart and at least one lung. You didn't get a clean drop otherwise.

It took a minute, but finally my mysterious hunter appeared from the other side of the valley. The sun glinted off of COG armor plates; he or she was a Gear. I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or not. After another minute of careful observation, I finally recognized the scraggly plaits of hair down the woman's back.

I jogged down to her and the deer, making sure to call out a friendly, "Sergeant Mataki!" halfway down the hill. Her head snapped up to meet my gaze; she didn't look happy to see me. My boots skidded on the slippery snow as I came to a stop about ten feet from her. "Nice kill," I complimented her. "Almost took it for myself, but…you know…whatever."

Her grey eyes pierced straight through me, forcing me to lose track of my words. I stuttered to a stop. She stared at me for a moment that was slightly too long for awkward before speaking. "It's Bri, right?" she finally asked me.

I nodded, and then dropped my eyes to the deer carcass at our feet. There was something tense in the atmosphere between us. To Mataki's credit, she didn't beat around the bush with pointless small talk. "Why are you out here?"

I kicked some snow in the direction of the deer to make sure it was really dead. Its glistening black eyes didn't blink as the fluffy white came to rest around its brow. It had been a quick death, at the very least. "Same reason as you, I suspect," I finally answered her. It wasn't like she didn't have reason to ask; it wasn't common to run into someone this far out from civilization. And those you did run into didn't usually turn out to be friendly. "I was hoping to hunt down a deer or something to buy a ride back to my camp."

Mataki knelt down next to the deer. She looked up at me; her eyes squinted against the glare of the sun, but her sergeant training came through in the stubborn set of her jaw. "Camp? You're a Stranded, then?"

"Well," I hedged, "the short answer is yes."

"And the long answer?"

"The long answer..." I hedged off. Call me crazy, but there was something about Mataki that I didn't trust - at least not yet. When Cole first asked me if I was Stranded, there was nothing but idle curiosity in his voice. It was like asking if I preferred carrots or corn. But here, with this grizzled old sergeant glaring up at me, there was something...hostile in her gaze. Maybe she had the same prejudices against outsiders as the civilians, or maybe it was just me she didn't like. "The long answer is something I don't like to talk about much."

She didn't answer me, only gave a curt nod like I had confirmed something for her. She didn't like Stranded; that much was obvious. Her cold demeanor earlier finally made sense. She grabbed the hind legs of her kill and started dragging it off towards the west. Too late I noticed the 'Dill hidden back behind the trees almost a hundred yards off. Even though she didn't ask me to, I grabbed hold of one of the legs and helped her pull it along. Deer were heavy, even for cranky, Stranded-hating, old gears.

"You sure you don't wanna go ahead and gut it here? It'll make a mess if you take it back to the city to do that."

She didn't answer until we reached her 'Dill. She already had four or five deer strapped to the roof; their heads created a stomach-turning mesh of flesh. For a second, I was miffed at the unfairness of our hunts. She had six deer; I had none. Maybe I should have spent less time sight-seeing and spent more time actually _hunting_.

"No thanks, it'll be good for others to learn how to skin and dress a deer. Sure they can gut a locust with a chainsaw without batting an eye, but most of 'em lose their lunch when asked to disembowel a chicken." For a second, I wondered what kind of spoiled, yellow-belly novice couldn't skin and cook his own chicken. Some people were just way too accustomed to others doing the dirty work for them. She straightened up and dusted off her wrinkled hands. "Thanks for the help. Now, if we can just get them up on top…"

She'd managed to get the rest up on top of the 'Dill, but I could see the vaguest hint of exhaustion in the corners of her eyes. "Shouldn't be a problem. Let me just…" Without hesitating, I grabbed the side rungs of the 'Dill and hefted myself upwards. The roof was covered in sticky, half-congealed blood that stuck to my fingers and palms. Grimacing slightly at the heady scent of death in the air, I motioned for Mataki to pass up the fresh kill.

It took a bit of juggling on both of our parts – mostly because Bernie looked exhausted after hunting all day, even if she wouldn't admit it – but we finally got all the deer on top of the 'Dill and strapped down with frazzled rope. A slight layer of sweat emerged between me and my clothes while working, and I shivered as the winter wind came blowing through the woods. That was bad; I wasn't especially worried about hypothermia, not yet anyway, but it would make the walk back to the Port unbearable. Usually I was careful to not work up a sweat in cold weather, but I still felt like there was something I had to prove to Mataki. I guess my pride came before my well-being. How idiotic was that?

"I think we're good," Mataki said, her voice slightly breathless.

"Looks like it." I grabbed my lancer off the top of the 'Dill before hopping down. I was shivering slightly but I tried not to show her that. The off-color snow at my feet glinted mockingly up at me, as if it was reminding me what an idiot I was. Frost bite or no, six deer was still a lot of meat at a time when food was scarce. My mouth watered slightly as I thought about fire-roasted venison steaks, medium rare.

"I'll be off now," Mataki announced. The loud _bang_ of a door slamming startled me out of my meaty daydreams. She was already tucked in on the drivers-side of the 'Dill and was cranking over the engine. I heard the mechanisms clank as she shifted into gear and prepared to take off.

"Hey, wait!" I called out, knocking on the passenger window. "Can I get a lift back Port Farrall?" I was cold, sweaty, and covered in quickly-congealing blood. Suddenly a long trek back through the woods didn't seem as appealing as it did this morning. Besides that, the sun was just starting to sink lower in the sky. I _really_ didn't want to be stuck out here in the dark; especially if there were Locust wandering the area.

My hand rested on the door handle as I waited for her to nod or otherwise acknowledge my request. There was a second of time just long enough to be awkward as I stood dejectedly on the outside of the 'Dill and Mataki stared straight out of the windshield. I wondered if she didn't hear me, but I knew she did. The engine idled frustratedly as we both lingered in a stalemate.

Finally, _finally_, she turned her head to stare at me. I wasn't sure what I expected to find in her expression – uncertainty, confusion maybe. Instead, the fierceness and intensity of her appearance made me drop my hand from the door-handle. There, deep in her grey eyes and folded wrinkles, was anger. And hatred. And suspicion. Lots and lots of suspicion. I could read her emotions in the tightness of her lips and the crinkle of her eyebrows. There was a reason she had acted guarded while around me all this time. That reason was loathing; loathing for me and what I was.

_Stranded._

I stumbled backwards in shock, as if her brush-off had been a physical blow that landed deep between my ribs. In the same instance she hit the gas pedal and roared off towards home, ducking and weaving through the trees. I felt like I should have said something – should have yelled some curses or insults her way, but I didn't feel angry. Not then, anyway. I just felt…shocked. I'd seen first-hand the animosity and hatred many COG held for the Stranded; experienced it that very morning, even. I guess I just wasn't expecting it from someone Delta held in such high regard.

"Yeah...screw you too," I muttered to the empty woods. The 'Dill was long gone, taking Mataki and her hatred with it. Ironically, she had left me Stranded in a very literal sense of the word. It looked like I would end up hoofing it all the way back to the Port.

The woods, which had seemed inviting and relaxing just this morning, now seemed dark and menacing. The lowering sun cast dark shadows that held any and all dangers my mind could dream up. Every flash of movement in the corner of my eye was a Locust ambush; every leaf rustle was an E-hole about to emerge. Reluctantly, I stuffed the daggers of fear away and began retracing my path through the woods.

"Mataki, if I die tonight, I am _so_ going to kill you," I growled angrily as I continued the unending trek back home.

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry this chapter took forever. A ton of stuff has been happening lately, although I feel that's all I ever say in my comments. On a positive note, the next two chapters are practically written! That's good, yeah? **

**So, if anyone is still reading this, what do you think of Bernie's cold brush-off? Could that spell trouble in the future? (Hint: Yes. It does. :D ) And what will happen when Bri finally gets back to camp and has to confront everything she's been hiding from? Stay tuned to find out!**

**On another note, I've been getting some reviews/messages about my other story, 'One More Time' asking me if I was planning on finishing it. Sadly, I am not. It's just so old and I've lost all enthusiasm for that story. I'll probably end up taking it down soon. However, if anyone is curious, I am planning on writing a one-chapter walkthrough of everything I had planned and how I resolved the Revan/Carth/Sarah debacle. Message me if you're interested! Don't worry, however. I am most certainly planning on finishing this one, as well as my other Gears of War fanfic, 'The Blood of Innocence'. **

**So, thank you so much for reading this far! I hope to have the next chapter up shortly!**


	23. A Confession Most Vile

Just west of Port Farrall

Present Day

_ "I need to go for a walk. I have to. I can't miss a day. No, I have to. I have to go look. If I don't keep looking, I'll never find them. Bennie and Sylvie. I know I saw them. Just once, but they're out there, and they'll be so scared – I have to go find them."_

- _A heartbroken Maria Santiago in the midst of psychosis insisting on searching for her dead children. _

I had been walking for about two miles in a miserable, half-frozen, stinking march when I came across a half-deserted road. Usually roads where typically avoided – too easy for a pirate gang to set up an ambush – but I didn't care. I was tired, sore, cold, and incredibly pissed off. It was stupid of me to come so far out in the first place. When I first started walking, my only purpose had been to get _away_ from it all. I hadn't paid attention to how far I had been walking. It was my own damn fault I was Stranded out here – freezing – in the middle of nowhere.

Still, it made me feel better to blame Mataki. That anger lit a fire in my belly that supplied enough fuel for my body to keep moving forward.

So she hated Stranded. I could understand that; hell, half the surviving world did also. But leaving someone out in the woods so far from civilization was a dick move no matter how one looked at it. Instinctively I knew that if Delta found out about our little parlay in the forest Mataki would get shit for her actions, but I wasn't about to go run and tattle to Marcus. I didn't need someone to solve my problems for me; I hadn't needed someone like that in a _long_ time. The only sensible solution would to be to stay as far away from Mataki as possible until her little grudge ran its course.

Of course, I wasn't exactly notorious for doing the 'sensible' thing.

Two squirrels I had shot out of a tree with my pistol dangled against my hip. Their dead bodies were tied tight to my belt, smearing my pants with little drops of blood. Squirrels didn't have a lot of meat on them, but I probably had just enough to make a paltry stew. If nothing else, I could dry the fur and use it to line my boots. Walking around with frozen feet was fast loosing the allure. The road was mostly dirt now that the concrete had eroded away. Still, it was frozen solid and refused to give beneath my feet. The ground was harder than stone, and about half as comfortable to walk on.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn't hear the heated grumble of an engine slowly approaching. It was loud; echoing off the trees and setting my teeth on edge. I thought about ducking into the woods to hide, but decided against it. An engine that loud belonged to a huge vehicle – a vehicle too large for any Stranded to own. This behemoth could only belong to the COG.

My feet, already numb from cold, dragged to a stop along the icy road. The vehicle – a Derrick, I discovered as it crested a hill – grew impossibly loud as it inched closer. It was heading back east, towards Port Farrall. Transportation didn't come around often, so I was determined that this COG vehicle was my ticket back to the Port.

My back straight, my jaw squared…I had been prepared for an argument. As the vehicle grew closer, my tight lips slowly curved upwards out of my snarl and into a smile as the Derrick slowed to a stop and a familiar figure leaned out the side.

"A'ight there, Bri?" his whiskey-rough voice called out. "Whatcha doing in tha' middle o'the street for? You trying to pick a fight with Betty?"

No fight would be needed to get a lift back to Port Farrall. I'd recognize that moth-eaten cowboy hat anywhere. "Hey, Dizzy! You sure got great timing, you know that?"

He waved me over, grumbling something about half-frozen 'idgits' found in the snow. His warm eyes were crinkled with concern above his salt-and-pepper colored beard. His gaze followed me around to the passenger seat and as I opened the door he said to his daughters, "Go on, now. Scootch over an' let Bri warm 'er bones."

Maralin and Teresa, Dizzy's two daughters, were sitting in the middle of the bench seat. Maralin immediately scampered over the top of the seat and into the small space behind the driver's side. Teresa gave me a small, shy smile as I settled in next to her.

Dizzy slammed the driver's door hard enough that it echoed over the loud rumbling of the engine. I waited for him to shift into gear and continue down the road, but instead he studied me closely. "You wanna explain why you're hanging out here in the middle o' nowhere fo'?"

_Absolutely not, _was my immediate thought. Instead, I sighed and tried to search for an answer that would satisfy him and get him to leave me alone. "Would you believe me if I told you I was looking for Big Foot?"

Teresa giggled quietly, but Dizzy wasn't as easily distracted. He '_harrumped'_ heatedly before releasing the clutch and driving forward. "Fine, fine. Don' tell me. You just gonna give me a heart attack one o' these days, that's all."

I didn't answer. I knew Dizzy worried about me, even though I'd asked him several times not to. He might have come off gruff and uncivilized to most people, but I knew very well that there was a heart of gold underneath all that dirt. Dizzy didn't love much in his life, but he held on tightly to what he found precious. His daughters, his Derrick, and – surprisingly – me.

I kept quiet as my feet slowly began to thaw and send shivers of pain up my calves. At least the tingles in my lower body gave me something else to think about. Dizzy was important in my life, but I couldn't help but feel awkward around him now. Dizzy was the closest thing I'd ever had to a father. He'd saved my life more than once, and in hundreds of different ways. When Ace died Dizzy was the one who found me and held me as I wept in the dirt. I owed him so much more than I could ever repay.

We continued onwards towards Port Farrall in quiet solitude. The rumbling of the engine was just enough to numb the thoughts in my mind, which was nice. Dizzy was occupied watching the road for hidden E-holes that would swallow one of Betty's tires whole as the twins conversed in the back. Finally, when Teresa mentioned 'Prescott's' name several times in a row, my curiosity got the better of me.

"What are you two talking about?" I twisted in my seat to look them both in the face.

Immediately, their faces shifted into a mirrored expression of guilt and excitement. Teresa motioned for Maralin to spill the story. "There's been some rumors circulating around camp," she informed me. "Some people say that Prescott is thinking about relocating again."

I thought that bit of news over. "Relocate _where?_" I asked. "I thought the COG ended up in the Port because it was the only place left with enough infrastructure to support an entire city?"

This time Teresa answered instead; evidently her enthusiasm for the plan overpowered her shyness. "They say we might go to the islands! Tropical weather – can you imagine?"

"Hogwash," Dizzy interrupted. "Shouldn't put any stock in rumors and hear-say, understan' me? If and when ol' Prescott gives the order to relocate we'll figur' out what ta' do then, but until then y'all best keep your minds out of the clouds. Ya' Hear?"

"Yes, Daddy," the two girls chorused dejectedly. It effectively put an end to that conversation, but my mind still spun with the possibilities. The camp still had dozens of people dying every day – mostly the young or elderly, those who couldn't take the cold. Food was scarce and sickness was rampant. The warmer weather would help most of our problems. Not to mention, it would really bolster morale for both the Gears and civilians. And as far as we knew the grubs were never able to tunnel far out into the sea-floor.

However, there were some downsides to the plan as well. Many people wouldn't want to be uprooted again so soon after the last evacuation, especially for something that sounded like a pipe dream. Plus, there were no islands that I knew of that were large enough to house a Jacinto-sized population. Breaking people up was a slippery slope that led to a loss in command. It would be like living in Stranded camps, and the civilians had already shown their thoughts on something like _that._

The idea continued to turn over in my mind until we reached the boundary of Port Farrall. Border guards recognized Dizzy immediately and waved him through the blockade. The rumbling of the engine was a siren that told the civilians in the street to move over like Moses parting the Red Sea in one of Momma's stories that she liked so well. "I never did ask you what you were doing so far out from the Port, Dizzy," I questioned him as we pulled up next to headquarters.

"Imulsion," he answered simply as he powered down his workhorse. "There was a hidden cache a few miles outsida' town. Prescott sent me to go an' get it. Gonna need as much juice as we all can get." With that, he hopped down out of the driver's seat.

I jumped down out of the Derrick and landed heavily on the balls of my feet. Teresa followed, but she took her time and climbed down the rungs one by one. I walked around to the front of the behemoth where the sight of six dead deer laying on the ground stopped me in my tracks. One was already open and mostly gutted; the hack saw lay on its flank abandoned and forgotten. Mataki had been called away for some reason.

A stray cat had taken advantage of the situation, and was nosing around in the open underbelly of the deer. It stuck its muzzle in and emerged triumphant with the deer's liver. The cat, feeling my eyes upon him, turned and stared at me, as if daring me to stop him. Normally I would – a meal was a meal, after all, and we needed all the food we could get. Instead, I motioned for him to get out of here. It was Mataki's deer; anything that pissed her off was alright by me.

The cat scampered off, leaving tiny, bloody prints in the snow, holding the liver clenched tightly in his teeth.

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit," Dizzy guffawed loudly. "There's where e'rrybody went."

I turned to see where he was looking; through the crowd I could just make out Cole's bald head wavering above the rest. As he drew nearer the exhausted shapes of Dom, Bernie, and Marcus emerged from the masses. All the people I _didn't_ want to see, except maybe Cole. I should have made a half-ass excuse to Dizzy and beat a hasty retreat, but Mataki locked eyes with me before I could move my feet. Her eyes immediately narrowed, then travelled to my back and traced the shape of my longshot. She didn't look surprised to see me. She didn't look disappointed either, which I guessed was a start.

Dom and Cole had their heads tucked in close together and were discussing something; something unpleasant, judging by the look on Dom's face. "Nobody's sore at you, baby," I heard Cole say as they drew closer. "You want it, I'll make it happen. That's all."

"Thanks, Cole Train," Dom finished before his eyes found Dizzy. A spark of life emerged in his eyes and the corner of his mouth _almost_ curled upwards into the beginnings of a smile. "Bernie, this is Dizzy Wallin," Dom introduced them. "He saved my ass, and Marcus'. He took on that grub bastard Skorge so we could get clear in the grindlift."

Whatever that story was, it happened long before I met Delta. I was much more interested in examining Mataki's reaction to Dizzy. Was it all Stranded she hated, or just me? When Dizzy stuck his hand out she shook it, but I still saw her nose crinkle with slight disgust. That could have just been a reaction to the smell of stale alcohol that followed Dizzy around like a shadow, however. "He's buildin' me up, Sergeant – Tai was the one who stopped that weird streak o' piss, not me. He saved _my_ ass. Where is he? I got some extra-smooth moonshine I want to share with him."

Whoever this 'Tai' person was, the mention of his name stopped the conversation dead. The slight spark of life I saw in Dom's eyes when he saw Dizzy earlier vanished as he said, "Sorry, Dizzy. He didn't make it."

The bitter taste of sorrow filled the air. It was always hard to hear of another death, another life wasted. Dizzy looked into Dom's face, read what was there, and screwed his eyes shut for a moment.

"Shit," he said.

The conversation continued in muted murmurs that explained in greater detail how exactly Tai had lost his life. I listened for a while, until I saw the devastated look on Maralin's face. Her hands were balled into tight fists that shook with emotion. A single, solitary tear tracked a clean path through the dirt and grime on her cheek. "You okay?" I whispered to her. It was a stupid question; it was obvious she wasn't.

It took her a moment to open her eyes. She stared unseeingly past me into the ramshackle city. "I hate it here," she finally answered. "Every day you hear of someone new who died. Daddy told me about Tai – he was a hero. He didn't deserve that – didn't deserve-" her throat closed up with tears. Teresa was there in the next heartbeat, wrapping her warm and comforting arms around her sister. They leaned on each other for support as they mourned together.

I turned away to afford them their privacy just to see Mataki examining her precious deer hides closely. "Bastards!" she snarled. "Where's my frigging liver gone?"

_Oops…_ I thought with a guilt-free conscious. I mentally wished the cat had managed to take off with the entire deer – or maybe just the backstraps. The liver was the least of her problems. Dom stepped away from Cole and the intense conversation they were having earlier to examine the crime-scene. He tapped the bloody foot-prints with the toe of his boot. "Cats," he said.

"Cat," I corrected him. "One set of paw prints." I couldn't resist Mataki's anger; I stepped closer and pointed out the evenly-spaced prints and their uniform depth in the snow. "Looks like you got out-smarted by your everyday pussy-cat."

Her narrowed eyes took in my small smirk that I tried half-heartedly to hide. _Oh yeah,_ I thought vindictively. _I know __exactly__ what happened to your precious liver…_

"That's it," she snapped as she rose to her feet. I held my ground as she checked her Lancer's ammo clips and her watch. "Time I got some fur gloves. They – or _it_ – needs putting down. Vermin. I've got a couple hours. Coming?"

She could have attacked me – shot me through the chest – yelled at me, barraged me with anti-Stranded bullshit, and it would have hurt less. She wasn't _trying_ to be malicious – at least not yet – but her invitation felt like a sucker-punch to the chest. Worse yet – I knew Dom felt it as well.

_Putting down. Euthanizing. Whatever fancy name you want. Oh, God…Maria…_

It threw me to the border of the canyon; it tipped Dom over the edge.

"Just stop being _nice _to me, all right?" The shout ripped through the air with a palpable sense of desperation and pure, unadulterated, pain. It was the dying shout of a hopeless man. In that moment I had a sense of how deep his pain went. His expression was contorted into a mask of rage and shame and anger – all directed purely at himself.

"Just _friggin stop it!_ All of you. I couldn't save my own fucking wife. I couldn't find her in time. I couldn't _save her._ I had to shoot my own wife because_ I couldn't save her!_ Fuck you all." With that, he burst out sobbing.

Everyone snapped into action, the way they had been trained. Cole yelled at a few curious passerbies to keep it moving. Bernie pulled him into an embrace. Marcus grabbed his elbow and steered him inside, mumbling something too low for me to hear. And as for me? I froze. I didn't think, didn't react; I just _watched_. Somewhere along the lines I was jostled to the outskirts of the group where I watched in stunned silence. I was beyond noticing anything anymore; not the cold, not Cole asking me repeatedly if I was okay. I think I mumbled a response to him before heading off in a random direction.

Maria had been my mom, but she had been Dom's _wife_. I could barely remember her, all the things that made her special. He probably couldn't get the memories out of his head. And if the only thing I could think of was him raising the gun to her forehead, I couldn't imagine how many times worse it would be for Dom.

I paced outside the building for a while. Everyone eventually dispersed as the sun sank lower across the horizon. They might have tried to get me to go with them – matter of fact, I was sure they probably had – but I was beyond noticing. The muscles under my skin were clenched tight with anxiety and keenness of a fight - only this fight was purely mental. There was no one to punch, nowhere to land a blow, no temple to place a gun barrel against. This time, it was only me and my thoughts. The one thing in this world I couldn't run away from was myself.

Steeling myself against the cold, I stared at the small shack Dom and Marcus had disappeared into. The distance between it and I stood like an inestimable gulf. It was as if we were both drowning in the middle of the ocean, and the only way we would survive was to cling to each other. I couldn't run away anymore. I couldn't ignore the past.

I couldn't leave him alone to drown, like moss washed down river. For once, I had to be somebody's water rock.

The doorknob glinted dully in the diminishing sunlight and I caught it in my fist. My knuckles were cracked and bleeding slightly from the blustery weather. Taking a deep breath of icy air that hurt my chest, I yanked open the door and revealed the sulking pair below.

Dom had his head buried in his hands; he didn't even notice my grand arrival. Marcus gazed at me with that cool stare of his - that bloodless, half unfocused stare that matched the temperature of the world outside - before rising heavily to his feet. I didn't need to tell him why I was there; evidently he could read my intentions in the stricken expression on my face. He exited the room without saying a word to either of us. Apparently, he expected me to do this alone.

Clenching my jaw, I sat next to Dom on the janitor's workbench. The spot was slightly warm where Marcus had rested. I cracked my sore knuckles with agitation, trying to figure out where to start. I jumped back up to my feet; I began to pace the small bit of room provided. My pulse thrummed in my throat as adrenalin worked its way through my system.

How do you do it? How do you walk back into someone's life after fifteen years? How do you begin to pick up again, when you were too little to remember where you left off? The people you love don't usually come back from the dead.

Call me a coward all you wanted; I couldn't go through with it. I didn't know how; the words just wouldn't come. Instead, a new question rose up deep in my chest – a question that demanded an answer. "Your kids," I murmured quietly. "A boy and a girl. Whatever happened to them?"

For a long time I thought he wouldn't answer, or maybe he just hadn't heard me. Finally, though, he sighed. "They died on E-day," he croaked out in a voice that sounded like it had been rusted over with tears.

And there it was. Finally, after all these years, I had an answer. I wasn't lost, or abandoned, or forgotten. I was dead. He didn't look for me or try to rescue me not because he didn't care, but because he didn't know I needed him.

For _years_, I'd sketched my father out in my mind - first as a superhero who would come and rescue me, and then as a villain. I'd never imagined him as he really was - just a man. A good man, but a man with faults and mistakes and hopes and dreams like everyone else on this planet.

I may not have known my father yet, but we had this much in common: Neither of us, as it turns out, has been the only one who lost someone they love. I took a deep breath and tried to remember this fact as I let my boots dangle over the precipice and I took the plunge.

I tried to bear in mind my earlier bravado - the fearlessness I had felt when antagonizing Mataki. This wasn't fear, however, not exactly. I stuck my hand into my pocket and felt for the tiny, silver clasp of my childhood locket. Drawing strength from the diminutive memento, I reclaimed my earlier spot on the bench next to Dom.

He hadn't stirred during my fretful pacing; his only noticeable movement was when he raised his head from his hands to look at me. My boots tapped nervously against the dirt floor as I tried in vain to think of what to say. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I decided to go for the truth, no matter how painful it was.

"The thing is," I started, and then paused, and then tried again. "The thing is..." My fingers pressed together into a fist as I searched for the right words. Eloquence had never been my strong suit. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and decided to take a run at it, consequences be damned.

"The thing is...my name isn't Bri, not really. My name...my name is Sylvia." I squeezed my eyes shut tight; I couldn't bear to see his reaction. "Sylvia...Carla...Santiago...and... and I'm your daughter."

I kept my eyes shut; I didn't want to see his reaction. The room was immediately plunged into an awkward silence; the world felt like it was holding its breath. There was a short gasp of shock from Dom's side of the bench, but that was it. He didn't say anything; I didn't open my eyes. I had done my part in this world-shattering declaration. Now it was his turn.

The minutes ticked by slower than molasses in wintertime. I kept waiting for some form of shock or surprise or happiness from Dom, but none came. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of listening to the wind howling outside the flimsy shack, I gathered up my last dredges of bravery and opened my eyes.

He wasn't sitting next to me any longer. Silently, he had risen to a towering height above me. His Gear uniform formed a mountain of steel and scars before me that was physically as well as mentally imposing. I slowly dragged my eyes upward to meet his stone-cold gaze. His expression was confusing to me; I expected surprise, maybe happiness, perhaps even disbelief. Well, there was disbelief, alright.

He didn't believe me. Not even a little bit.

"Is that supposed to be _funny?" _he hissed out through a jaw clenched tight with anger. "You think this is some kind of _joke?!"_

_"W-what?!"_ I managed to string together out of my barely-coherent thoughts.

The anguish had been wiped from his eyes, only to be replaced with anger. "You think that was going to make me feel better?! I _told_ you to stop trying to be so damn nice to me! I don't need your fucking lies!"

"I-I…I'm not – I mean-"

_"Get. Out." _His voice was dangerously low.

"What?"

"GET OUT!" he roared with anger as his gripped my shoulder painfully tight and shoved me out the door. I was too stunned to resist; my boots skidded uselessly against the rotted floor. The door was thrown open before he hefted me from the small building. I tripped over the doorjamb and went tumbling down into the snow. I rolled over on my back to see him staring at me from within the doorframe with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Sylvia…Sylvia died on E-day. She's dead. I have no daughter." With that, he slammed the door in my face as my tears froze to my cheek.

**_Author's Note: Well then. I guess it's safe to say that _****_wasn't_****_ the reaction from Dom most of you were looking for?_**

**_Let me know what you think! Feel free to yell at Dom in the review section – I'll make sure he gets the message. :) _**

**_Thanks for reading! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to go twirl my villain mustache evilly in my secret layer as I write the next chapter! Muahahaha!_**


	24. Bitter Cold

Port Farrall

Present Day

_"Trust…is such a funny thing. It can take years to build it up, and a heartbeat to break it into pieces. Once it is broken, it is so difficult to repair."_

- _ Momma when Bri was threatening to leave the Stranded Complex._

The snow was so cold. That was the only thing that registered in my stunned mind – the freezing cold. Part of it had melted and was seeping into the cloth on my back and legs. My bare hands were red and angry as they lay limp and useless in the fluffy white. I hated the cold – I remembered that much. Every year I hated the return of Frost. Couldn't it be an endless summer?

The snow was cold; the world was frozen, but my face burned like dying embers in a fire. I could feel the heat light my cheeks up into a burning red. I didn't feel the emotion behind the physical reaction – Embarrassment? Anger? – I could only feel the heated blood rushing just beneath the skin. The heat of emotion meshed with the icy world until everything melted in my peripheral. That was it, wasn't it? Melted snow and ice – that's what accounted for the water upon my cheeks.

_I have no daughter_.

Oh. No. No, it wasn't just melted water on my cheeks. Those were tears; I suppose that accounted for the salty taste in my mouth. I was crying. How about that? Crying over a stupid, _stupid_ man.

_I have no daughter._

Fine. That was just fine with me. He forgot one thing, however. If he didn't have a daughter, then I didn't have a father. Didn't have a stupid, _stupid_ family that only served to get close enough to rip you to shreds. No, I didn't have a father. I should have just remembered that in the first place.

_I have no daughter._

The heavy oak door remained slammed shut. I stared at it for a while longer, still trying to comprehend all that it represented, before I sat up. The frozen weight in my heart started to crack and shatter, stabbing me from the inside. The pain and hurt was breathtaking in its severity. The sting crawled up through my chest into my throat and suffocated me. I tried in vain to swallow back the tears while thinking how damn hard it was to stand your ground when everyone around you was trying to bury you beneath it.

I don't know how long I sat there on my ass is the slush and cold – whether it had been a minute, or an hour, or an entire day – when I slowly became aware of a presence just behind me. It took me a minute longer to realize I had to physically turn my head to see who was there. Another minute to remember how to find my muscles, and I looked.

I should never have looked. Who else would it have been?

Marcus stared at me from an impossible height. His expression revealed nothing – it never did. It made sense that he was here; where Dom was, Marcus was soon to follow. They were like some sick, twisted version of Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb. I searched in vain for the right words to say. What was there to say? He had rejected me, fully and completely. I had no words to explain the way that felt. It wouldn't matter if I did find my voice; I couldn't speak. I couldn't speak. I couldn't speak, because if I opened my mouth I was going to scream.

Marcus knelt down in the snow and slush to be by my side. I could feel his eyes upon my tear-streaked face, but for once his gaze didn't feel cold. It actually felt…comforting. Familiar. For once I had somebody on my side. "Sylvia," he said in his deep rumble, "What happened?"

I couldn't answer him. I didn't know how. He didn't want to know, anyhow; not really. He could read it in the flush on my cheeks and the slammed door behind us. I'd also be willing to wager that he had been watching from a distance. He wanted to know if I was alright; if I could get up and learn to live again. I was getting better at translating Marcus-speak. Sometimes you had to read between the lines.

"I remember you, too, you know," I finally said. I stared at the grey slush slowly melting and being absorbed into my clothing. "'Uncle Marcus'. You were there as I was growing up. I didn't remember, but now I do."

He didn't say anything, simply shifted uncomfortably on his heels. There was nothing to say, just a lifetime of unanswered prayers and unasked questions standing between us. "We'll try again," he finally muttered. "He'll have to listen. Trust me."

"What I think," I interrupted him, my voice quiet, contemplative, and controlled, "is that I'll never be able to trust anyone again."

And I wouldn't. Trusting people just got yourself hurt – in so many different ways. How many times would I have to learn that lesson before it truly sank in? Bane's number one rule – put yourself first. Putting myself first meant getting up, walking away, and forgetting any of this ever happened. It was what I should do. What I should have _wanted_ to do. Instead, I allowed Marcus to take hold of my arm with his hand and gently lift me to my feet. He didn't drop his hand; instead letting it wrap comfortingly around my bicep as he began to speak.

"Think about when you first realized the truth." I didn't want to, so I didn't let myself travel back to Nexus. Instead I focused my attention on his blue gaze. "Remember the shock and horror you felt. Dom has to work through that himself, and then he'll pull his head out of his ass. We'll explain. We'll tell him-"

"No. He said it himself. He doesn't have-" I had to close my eyes against the quick flare of pain. "He doesn't want me. And I don't need him."

There was an indeterminable silence on both of our parts. The city slowly became darker and colder as the sun sank on another horrible, _horrible_ day. I just wanted this all to _end_, to make all the pain and sorrow – not just my own, but everyone's – go far, far away. Maybe it was just a part of me that never truly grew up, but something still made me believe that there could be a better tomorrow. That small part of me was what made me open my eyes.

Marcus' gaze never left my face. "Everyone needs someone." His grip tightened once on my arm before he let me go. He fell quiet once more, allowing me all the time in the world I needed to make up my mind. He wasn't going to force me into anything. Even from the beginning, he had never tried to force me one way or another. He had allowed me to run away when I needed to, welcomed me back when I returned, and allowed me to take things at my own pace. Even now, when we were all so close to finally realizing the truth, he allowed me to take things at my own pace. It was up to me. I could have walked away, ran as far as my legs would take me. I could have never returned to this place. I could forget this ever happened.

But because he had given me a choice, I had none. If I wanted to run away, he would allow it, but he knew I could not. He expected so much more of me – demanded it in that quiet commanding presence all good Sergeants had. There was another part of me that wanted to prove myself to him, wanted to prove that I was strong enough. And I would be – I had to be.

"Okay," I finally agreed. "But I still get to say 'I-told-you-so'."

And with my bland attempt at humor, Marcus reached out and opened the door that I thought had been closed to me forever.

_**Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter, but I liked ending it there. Short, sweet, and to the point.**_

_**What did you all think? Will Marcus' presence help Dom see the truth? Will their second attempt end better than Bri getting shoved out into the cold? And what do you think about Bri finally seeing Marcus as a friend and confidante, instead of the enemy? Let me know!**_

**_Remember to leave a review on your way out! We're almost to 200 reviews, which would just make my entire year. Just saying. :)_**


	25. Eyes Wide Open

Port Farrall

Present Day

_"Sometimes, to make things okay, you just have to…believe they will be."_

_-Ace to Bri after a hard day training._

Marcus opened the door. The sun was sinking behind us, turning the world an odd color of purple and grey. There were no lights in the interior of the room, so our shadows were cast ahead of us onto the dirt floor. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I crossed that damned threshold for the second time that day.

Dom was there, facing away from us.

Marcus, the only person unaffected by the tense atmosphere, followed my footsteps into the small room which felt even smaller in his presence. For a moment, it was the three of us shrouded in our silence. Dom, who was alone and trying so hard not to be; Marcus, who wasn't alone at all if he would just realize it; and me, who wanted nothing more that to be left alone, and yet that was my biggest fear. Just us three planes of the universe coming together at last. The worst, most screwed up family in existence, yet still together.

"Dom," Marcus finally spoke. "We need to talk."

Dom hadn't turned around yet. His shoulders stooped with the weight of regret and depression. The paltry amount of light that slithered in through cracks in the wall illuminated his stone stature. He stood just as still as the weeping statues in the graveyards back when the dead were still granted such respects. The dents in his armor were a testament to all he had weathered throughout his life. And yet, here I was, just another blow to his heart. One that might just be enough to break him.

"Marcus…" Dom said. His voice was rough and cracked with a sadness so large that the enormity of it could not be contained. "I can't…I just…can't."

And suddenly, I understood. There were those who would believe that reuniting would be simple, or easy, or even good. But now all the rage and hate I had felt for all those years…now Dom would have to deal with that. It didn't matter if I didn't blame him any longer. He would blame himself – just as I knew he blamed himself for Maria's death. This self-blame and anger would kill him, and he already knew that. For every moment I had suffered growing up, he would suffer twice as much. That was just the kind of person he – my father – was.

And I couldn't imagine him any other way.

"Dom, it's _her,_" Marcus said. "Look at her, I mean _really_ look. Don't you see it?"

And finally_, finally_, Dom turned around and faced me. His eyes were shadowed by the growing night, but I could still see his stubbled-jaw drop slightly. A thin ray of dying sunshine flickered just before me, and I stepped into the light. The dim glow illuminated my features for him to see – _really _see, just as Marcus had said. I wondered what he saw. Did he see his daughter from so long ago, just a child when the world imploded? Or did he see me as a grown woman who no longer needed him? Did he get that confused mix of wonder and sadness and anger that I got whenever I looked at him?

And then, out of the darkness, came the startled gasp I'd been waiting so long to hear. "…_Sylvia?"_

He stepped forward into my ray of light and finally I could see his face clearly. I'd been so afraid of seeing the monstrous hate that he wore when throwing me from the room, but now his expression held only wonder and amazement. His calloused palm reaches for my face, and it's only then do I feel the tears upon my cheek. I had cried so much in the past week – shed more tears than I ever had before – but now these tears are different. They don't taste as bitter, because they are not the product of sadness. They are happy tears.

His warm palm opens wider to cradle my cheek. I let the weight of my head rest against his hand. His touch feels so familiar, and yet so unlike anything I've ever felt before. It was filled with the strength and warmth of a father's love, a love that was stronger and deeper than anything else on Sera. "Hello," I finally say to him. My lips turned up in a smile as I greeted my father for the first time in so long. "I'm your daughter."

I don't know who reached out first, but suddenly we are in each other's arms. His hands run down my loose hair and down my back, as if he's trying to make sure I'm real. I try to understand if this embrace feels familiar because I remember it, or because I so badly want it to.

His embrace feels warm and inviting even though the world outside was frozen and cold. It felt familiar and brand new all at once. It felt like coming home, after being away so long.

"My baby girl," I hear him murmuring above me. "_My baby girl…"_

I never wanted to let go, wanted to be lost in his embrace for the rest of my life. However, after the intense emotion of reunification wore off, my arms dropped off his shoulders and I stepped away. I was still _me,_ after all. Embarrassment flooded my wet cheeks and I used my frozen hands to wipe off the remnants of the salty emotion. You'd have thought I'd have dried out with how many tears I've shed this past week alone.

Dom wasn't quite ready to let go of me, however. He kept his hands clasped against my shoulders, holding me within arm's reach. His initial joy was just beginning to be tainted with regret and guilt. I could see the black sensations slowly overtake his face. "My God, _Maria_," he finally rasped out. "She…she went out looking every day. Said she believed you and Bennie were still out there, somewhere. Believed that she had seen you. All those therapists and medications…damn it! If I had _listened _to her, if I had _believed_ her…"

"Hey, hey listen to me, alright? It doesn't matter, okay? I'm serious, it doesn't matter. I'm here now. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed after a moment. I could tell he didn't quite believe me, but I had managed to stave off the shadows in his eyes. For now, anyway. Instead, a new question appeared in his expression. "How did you even find me? How did you know?"

That was a bit more difficult to answer. That was a story that was going to take quite a long time to tell, and one that I didn't want to jump right into the middle of. I deliberated on where to begin; Dom wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me over the bench. It was slightly lighter against the wall, so we didn't have to strain quite so much to see each other. However, it was also colder. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, and from there inspiration struck.

"With this," I said, and pulled my small locket from my pocket. It dangled upon the child-sized necklace and the broken heart rotated teasingly in the air. I caught it with my other hand and turned it over to reveal the smiling faces of my mother and brother. The picture was old and faded, but just enough definition existed to make out their chocolate eyes and hair, and the peach of my mother's lips.

Dom's face turned ashen in the receding sunlight. His eyes never left the fingerprint-sized picture balanced in the center of my palm. I could understand the pain such a picture would cause – especially so soon after Maria's death. Regret flared in my chest and I immediately began apologizing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No," was all he said. His hand went inside the chest plate of his armor and reemerged with an old plastic bag sealed tight. Inside contained several photographs and bits of paper. He delicately opened the bag and removed the stack of papers. I thought he wanted to show me more pictures – and honestly, I was dying to see them, now that I knew they existed – but he simply balanced them upon his lap. He upturned the plastic bag into his wide palm and then balanced the bag on top of the stack on his leg. He peered into his palm, poked at whatever was there, and then offered it to me.

There, amidst the scars and calluses of his hand, was the other half of a small, silver, child-sized locket.

I froze with confusion. It couldn't be – _it couldn't be!_ The silver was etched with a familiar decoration; how many times had I traced the flowery design with the tips of my fingers? The clasp was broken in the same spot my own was, as if broken by a fumbling hand much too large to be handling it. With trembling fingers I reached out and gently turned it over in his hand. I wasn't brave enough to pick it up just yet.

The locket half still held tight to a small picture. The edges of the photo was stained a deep burgundy, almost as if it had been dipped in blood and then painstakingly cleaned as well as possible. Despite the staining, the picture had not been aged as much as my own. Being encased in plastic was better that being stored in a pocket for fifteen-plus years. Therefore, the image of a little girl sitting in the lap of her father was still clear.

There was a little girl with her shoes on wrong because she insisted upon dressing herself. Her wide grin showed off crooked teeth that would begin falling out in only a short year or two. Her small arms were flung lovingly around the wide neck of her father as she pressed their faces cheek to cheek. He too was smiling widely, but he was looking at the young girl in his arms, and not the photographer. I could almost feel the scratchy sensation of his goatee against my own smooth skin.

It was me. Me and him, on the other half of my locket.

"How…how did you…" I stammered bluntly. It was lost on E-day!

When Dom spoke to answer my poorly asked question, his voice was gravelly with sorrow. "I heard the reports from E-day, but I just couldn't believe that…that you and Bennie were gone. So I went back. On the worst day of my life, I went to our old house to see the destruction for myself. I couldn't let myself think that my children were dead, so some screwed up part of my mind thought that I would go there and find both of you hiding in the basement or something. There was no way I'd have gotten through the blockade if I didn't have my armor on. As it was, nobody asked too many questions. Everyone was just trying to figure out what the hell had been going on.

"The bodies had already been cleared out. Otherwise, the street hadn't been touched. I just wandered up and down our old neighborhood, yelling myself horse, searching for the both of you. And then, in a pool of blood next to our old house, I saw something glinting in the sun. It was the locket I had picked out for you only a few weeks before…" He choked up slightly here and had to take a deep breath to re-center himself. "It was then I knew, I was _so sure…_"

I didn't know what to say. Instead of searching for flimsy words that wouldn't do either of us any good, I gingerly picked up the missing half of myself and gently tried to reset it against my locket. It wasn't a perfect match; my half had been worn down by constant carry, and there were still a few tiny pieces missing on the broken hinge. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close as I'd ever gotten.

"Thank you," I whispered. It was all that needed to be said.

You would think, when there is so much to say, that it comes easily. But instead we sit in an uncomfortable silence. We both had so many questions that neither of us knew where to start. 'Where have you been all my life?' seemed a bit _too_ cliché.

After a while of us sitting with our own thoughts, my mind traces back to the stack of photographs in his lap. I motion slightly, "Can I see those?"

"Of course. Here," he hands me an old photo that feels soft in my hands. Time has feathered the edges, and creases have worn the paper thin where it's been folded over several times. The ink, once vibrant, is now faded into muted shades of brown. But still, the photo's subject remains. _Maria_.

Her face looks like a picture of me that has been crumpled and then, on second thought, smoothed again. My features are there, but worn soft by the finest lines. Her hair is one shade lighter than mine. This is how I should remember her – open and smiling and beautiful – and not the tortured zombie emerging from the casket.

"She looks like me…" I murmured quietly.

Dom takes the photo gently from my hands and caresses it with his eyes. "You do look like her," he agrees after a moment. "And you are both so beautiful."

I smile at him as emotion once more wells up in my eyes. His arm reaches around my shoulder and he pulls me close. We stare at the photograph as the sun finally finishes sinking on this long, horrible, _wonderful_ day.

It's only later, as I was falling asleep against Dom's shoulder, that I realized Marcus had left sometime during the meeting. That was part of Marcus' mystique, I decided. He was there like magic when you needed him, and then gone just as quickly when you didn't. I pondered exactly when he had left as exhaustion slowly pulled me deeper into a peaceful sleep.

**_Author's note: Well? What did you think? Finally, they're reunited! Don't worry, however; there's still a ton of things for the both of them to work through. _**

**_Good? Bad? Ugly? What about the other half of Bri's locket, was anyone expecting that? Leave your responses in the review section below!_**

**_As always, remember to review as you make your way out! It means a lot to me! :D_**


	26. Dead Air

_Jacinto's Prepatory School_

_Eight Years After E-day_

"_Goodbye, proud world! I'm going home; Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine."_

_-Ralph Emerson_

**Bri tapped her pencil against the carved edge of the table, sighing in boredom. One hand pressed against her cheek, holding her head up. The kids around her - all ranging from early pre-teens to almost fighting age - talked and laughed and hollered. The small, dusty room echoed back all the noise and fed Bri's headache. The teacher was at the front of the room taking cover behind a battle-scarred desk, looking like she too was counting the seconds before the school day was officially over and she could go home.**

**Bri hated the hours she spent in school. It was nothing but wasted time, anyway. She could learn double what they taught her from Ace, and in half the time. Plus, she wouldn't have to deal with the idiots in her class who only showed up periodically, smoked and drank, and harassed the teachers. She tried hard to forget the fact that she used to **_**be**_** one of those idiots.**

**They were supposed to be working on an assignment from a textbook, but half the kids didn't have either the book, paper, or a pen. The few factories still running in Jacinto pumped out items for the war effort. School supplies weren't top priority on anybody's list.**

**"Hey," Bri called over to a girl on her left. The girl, who had been laughing along with a group of students, turned around and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "You using that?" Bri motioned with her chin at the closed textbook before the girl. She slid the book over with an irritated air.**

**Bri cracked open the textbook to the mandated page, ignoring the pen marks and crude messages written in by anonymous authors. The assignment was on edible plants in the wild. More specifically, what plants were not edible. Poisoning yourself was akin to shooting yourself in the foot. Bri knew most of the illustrated plants, anyway. She also knew which ones repelled insects when ground into a pulp, which plants animals liked to eat, and which plants came in handy for treating infection and illnesses. Ace had made her study them at length beforehand; he wanted her prepared in any way possible.**

**Lazily thumbing through the textbook, she almost missed the disturbance at the front of the room. Two boys - just below recruitment age for the COG - were standing up and tossing what looked like a lunch bag between them. A young girl with red hair fought to get it back from them. She leapt to try and snatch it out of the air, but one of the boys crashed into her and knocked her to the ground with an audible cry.**

**That was when Bri stood up.**

**The teacher watched with glazed eyes, as if she couldn't care less what happened to the students. As long as no one pulled out a gun or a knife - which happened more often than Bri liked to think about - the teacher refused to get involved. Unfortunately, Bri didn't have that kind of apathy.**

**"Leave her alone," she ordered the two boys once she reached the front of the room. She didn't say it impertinently, but it wasn't a request either. The two boys looked at her and snickered, still holding the lunch bag. "I mean it," she repeated. "Give her back her stuff and quit bothering her."**

**One of the boys - Chad or Chase or something - snorted in disgust. "Whatever. She's just some dumb Stranded; what do you care?"**

**"And you're just some dumb Shithead," Bri fired back automatically. The class, who had slowly caught wind of the skirmish at the front of the class, laughed at Chad/Chase's expense. The eldest boys in the class – those who hadn't yet been plucked up by the COG for the war effort – were usually free to torment any one they pleased. No one usually had the guts to bother them, not even the teachers. Bri wasn't just anyone, however. "Now give her back her stuff."**

**Anyone who hadn't been watching before certainly was now. Chad passed off the nearly destroyed bag to his cohort before stepping in front of Bri. "And what'cha gonna do about it if I don't?"**

**Bri really didn't want to have to punch the guy. She knew that if she did, Ace would hear about it and she would be stuck on dish duty for an entire month. He probably wouldn't believe her when she told him that Chad had started it. 'Stay out of trouble,' imaginary-Ace parroted in her mind. 'You can't be drawing attention to yourself'. He was right, of course. She was getting close to the age where the COG started taking an interest, grooming the young citizens for breeding stock or soldiers. Getting noticed by the COG at her age was akin to a death sentence.**

**Still, she had the eyes of the entire class upon her. More than that, however, she could feel the tear-filled gaze of the redheaded girl. Bri took a breath to silence the imaginary Ace in her mind as she made a fist. "You really don't wanna find out," she threatened. **

**The class 'oohed' menacingly. The teacher, finally noticing the changed atmosphere in her classroom, set down her book and stared at the three of them. Bri knew she only had a minute – maybe two – before the teacher intervened and made them all sit down. **

**Chad, who felt the loyalties of the classroom shifting, took a step closer to Bri. "Oh yeah?" he cajoled. "And wha-"**

**Before he could finish his sentence, Bri swept the back of his legs with a low kick, knocking him heavily to the ground. Chad's sidekick had only enough time to widen his eyes before Bri snatched the bag from his lax grip and shoved him back a step or two. She tossed the bag to the girl standing behind her and widened her stance, readying for the resulting fight.**

**Chad sprung to his feet as the class cackled with laughter. "You little Bit-" he started to yell, but finally the teacher rose behind up from behind her desk. "That's **_**enough**_**," she snapped, her hand reaching for the intercom to call in the two MP's that patrolled the school. Her grey eyes stared at the trio in an unspoken threat.**

**Chad backed down, beating a retreat to where his pack of friends waited. "This isn't over," he snapped at Bri, but it was likely an empty threat. Still, Bri nodded in agreement.**

"**Bring it," she said acidly, staring at him all the way back to his desk.**

**The teacher looked to the clock, counted the last ten minutes that she had left in class, and then sat heavily behind her desk. The class returned to whatever they were doing before the near-fight broke out. **

**A small voice said "T-thank you." Bri turned around, and found the younger redheaded girl standing close at her back.**

"**No problem," Bri answered. "But you should learn how to fight your own battles."**

**The girl, instead of looking offended like some might, just nodded in earnest. "I'm Maralin," she introduced herself. "That's my sister, Teresa." Bri blinked as she took in another redheaded girl sitting quietly at a lopsided desk. **

"**There's two of you!" Bri stated in shock. "I mean, twins. You're twins, right?"**

**They both nodded in unison. At first glance, Teresa seemed even more innocent and meeker than her sister counterpart. Suddenly, Bri's request for them to 'fight their own battles' seemed outlandish, even to her ears. "Why don't you come sit in the back with me?" she suggested.**

**As they waded through the rambunctious classroom - with Maralin clutching her ruined bag – Maralin spoke up with a suspicious note in her voice. "Why are you being so nice to us? Most people treat us like dirt."**

**Bri recalled Chad's 'Stranded' statement from earlier, and her curiosity peaked. She'd never actually met anyone who was Stranded before. She couldn't see what all the fuss was about. "Just 'cause." Bri answered. "Besides, I'm picky about the company I keep. No assholes allowed."**

My boots pounded the frozen ground as I strained for just a bit more speed – just a _bit_ more. The cold air rushed in and out of my lungs in quick pants. Small clouds of my breath fashioned tiny ice crystals that danced for milliseconds before breaking away in my wake.

Betty was a slow moving vehicle, but it was still hard for me to catch up. I had found out earlier this morning that Dizzy had been sent to check out a COG cache cleverly hidden in the old city of Perth. It was so cleverly hidden that apparently people still believed it would be intact. An intact cache meant fuel, food, medical supplies, etc. All of this was important, yes, but I had another reason to want to go to Perth. Perth was only four miles from the Stranded Complex.

I would be getting Sam back today.

That is, if I could only catch Dizzy.  
_  
"Dizzy!"_

Bowing my head against the chilling wind, I focused on getting my feet to move just a bit faster. Slowly, so slowly, I began to overcome Betty. Coming up alongside the vehicle, I gave the iced metal a solid slap with the heel of my hand. Dizzy couldn't hear me over the rumbling of Betty's engines. "Damn it," I cursed out between clenched teeth. Finally, when I felt I had to either catch his attention or literally run myself into the ground, I came up next to the passenger side door. Banging away with my fist, I could vaguely hear his shocked voice yell out "What in tarnation?!" before a loud screech of brakes met my ears. Betty came to a stop long before I did; inertia carried me another twenty or thirty meters before I could drag myself to a stop.

The 'Dill full of gears escorting the Derrick to the cache stopped as he did. I could feel their confused and slightly hostile gaze on me, but I didn't have time for them.

Jogging back to where Betty rumbled impatiently, I yanked open the passenger door to see Dizzy staring wide-eyed down at me.

"Hey Diz," I panted while climbing in next to him. "Mind giving me a ride?"

That morning had been awkward. The dawn found me still fast asleep on Dom's shoulder in the abandoned janitor's closet. When we woke, neither of us seemed to know what to do or say. I'd hoped that when I finally told Dom my secret - finally let him back into my life in his rightful position - some floodgate would open and all the gaps in my mind would be filled with memory. I wanted to reclaim that link to the past, but after that initial embrace, we've gone back to what we really are: two people who had just met. We couldn't rebuild our past, because we haven't even leveled common ground.

Thankfully, relief came in the form of Marcus knocking on the door. Apparently Hoffman needed the pair of them for some kind of mission or another; I didn't really get the specifics. My mind was occupied with the fact that I hadn't eaten anything for almost twenty-four hours. The squirrels that I had trapped and gutted the day before were gone; they must have fallen off of my belt when Dom shoved me from the room. Someone would have quickly snatched them up and was probably enjoying them for breakfast.

Briefly I considered trying to scare up some of Mataki's leftover venison, but decided I'd rather starve. That left me with the option of going out and checking my traps from the other day. I had been heading back out towards the woods when I ran into Dizzy's daughters. They told me about Dizzy's mission, which prompted my early morning marathon.

The small heater installed in the grimy dashboard rattled frighteningly loud. It was trying desperately to heat the small cabin. I appreciated the paltry amount of warmth, but evidently Dizzy found the noise more than a little irritating. He tapped the top of the heater with the underside of his fist – percussive maintenance - before speaking. "S'why do you wanna go to Perth?"

"I don't," I answered him honestly. "I wanna go to the Mali River. It's on the way, right?"

He nodded slowly, pensively, his scraggly beard meeting the top of his chest plate. "An' why do yous wanna go there, I wonder?"

He wasn't fooling me – he knew as well as I did why I wanted to go. The Mali river flowed down from Mount Kadar – a place I swore I'd _never_ go again – through the Stranded camp, and then onwards to Perth. Instead of pointing this out, however, I answered him honestly. "I need to get to the camp. Sam's there, for one, and I need to check up on things. Last time I was there…things weren't going all that great."

That was an understatement. The last time I had seen the camp, the Locust were attacking. The COG had been using the road through the camp to get to Nexus, so the grubs tried to cut the pathway off. The sight of people running scared and confused through the camp while the Locust came busting through the gates ran through my mind, and I shivered. What would I find left of the camp? Would there even be a camp left to go home to?

Dizzy gave a grand sigh as he stared out the cracked windshield. "Ya' know," he finally said to me in a fatherly tone, "Ya' don't have to keep running like this. Ya' fell in with some good people at ta' camp, but it's still a hard life. The COG's one mean sonovabitch, but the life's got its perks. Your 'birthing order' is prolly resting underneath 'bout a million gallons of water right now. Nobody'd kick up a fuss if you'd want to stay put."

One side of my mouth kicked up in a sad smile. This wasn't the first time I'd heard this speech. Dizzy worried about me. He knew I could take care of myself, but he still never liked seeing me out on my own. To him, the COG was the lesser of two evils. I just wasn't sure if I could ever go back to that life. I had changed so much since my time in Jacinto – in good ways, in bad ways, - but I really couldn't see myself living on a military base again. Even if Dom-

_Shit._

What was I going to do about Dom? No doubt he'd expect me to stay with him. We'd literally only had one night as a family – if you could even call it that. There was no way he'd want me to stay living in a Stranded community. And there was no way that a fully fledged Gear could take to Stranded living. He'd be dead in a week.

Dizzy remained quiet while I pondered the unanswerable question. Dizzy was good like that – he knew when to step back, and when to speak up. Until yesterday, he was the closest thing I had to a father. Hell – he _was_ the closest thing I had to a father. Blood didn't account for anything. There had even been a time when I'd fantasized about him adopting me into his family, but that time had passed long ago.

I considered telling Dizzy about Dom. I wasn't sure what his exact reaction would be, but I knew it would cause him to push even harder for me to stay with the COG. Dizzy was all about family.

Deciding I didn't want to tell him just yet, I finally settled on a small nod. "I'll think about it," I promised him. "Just know that whatever I decide, I'm grateful to you. You've done a lot for me, Diz. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. That's not going to change. Ever."

Dizzy didn't say anything back, but he smiled at me from underneath his grey beard. As he reached to change gears his hand changed course and he patted my knee gently. I meant what I said. Dizzy was a good man, even if he did have a bottle of rye whiskey tucked into the seat between us. We lapsed into the quiet once again, but unlike this morning with Dom it wasn't awkward. It was comfortable. Warm.

I stared out the window upon the disheveled world. Somewhere out there were pockets of grubs still surviving, but there couldn't be that many. The war was almost won. Now a new one was just beginning – rebuilding a world that had been burned and hazed back to the Stone Age. It would be beyond hard, and it would take several lifetimes to get back anywhere close to normal. Eventually all those living on the fringes of society would have to make a choice. They could either join the COG or stand against them. Maybe, if all the Stranded groups could band together to form their own nation, the future wouldn't hinge upon the COG. Something greater could emerge from the ashes of Sera.

Maybe it wouldn't have to be all or nothing, however. The COG needed to be able to change, to match the shifting roles society would come to play in the near future. They would have to work _with_ the Stranded – or any other civilization hoofing it all around the world. A new world order was coming. Hatred and bigotries would have to be a thing of the past, or humanity would complete was the Locust had failed to do.

I just needed to figure out what role I would play in the future – or if I had a role to play at all.

"So whaddya' think?" Dizzy asked me. It took me a second to realize he had been speaking for a while, and I – lost in my thoughts – had completely missed it.

"What?"

"'Bout moving to the Islands. Ya' think it's a good idea?"

It took me another confused second, but I finally realized what he was talking about. There were rumors about the COG heading down to the Islands where it was warmer and – hopefully – safer. "I don't know," I answered truthfully. "There aren't any islands big enough to house a Jacinto-sized population, are there?"

"There's one," Dizzy answered. "Name's Vectes. Heard of it?"

Vectes. _Vectes._ It sounded familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on why exac-

"That was a chemical research facility back in the Pendulum Wars, right?" My voice sounded outraged even to my own ears. "Diz, that place is crawling with Bioweapons! We can't go there!"

During the Pendulum wars, several islands housed weapons research facilities. I knew this because I'd been to one, several years ago. It was a memory I tried hard to forget, because that was where –

_Don't think about it._

"Apparently Prescott thinks it's safe now. Bastard. Says the place was declared habitable years ago, but jus' happened to slip his mind."

"Yeah…" I murmured, my mind still a thousand miles away. "Convenient, that…"

I kept my eyes on the 'Dill of gears in front of us. I felt Dizzy's eyes upon my face, trying to read my expression, but I carefully kept my face schooled into a blank page. I knew what he was looking for. I just wasn't going to give it to him.

"Bri, I know what happened there. I know that's where Ace-"

"Don't say it!" I snapped at him. "Not now. Not today."

I fought to keep my mind focused upon the winter wasteland, and not the sight of a tropical gravesite. The islands were somewhere I swore never to return. Because Dizzy was right.

The islands were where Ace died.

Finally, the river crested over the horizon as we trundled up a hill. Dizzy slowed the vehicle, downshifting to a lower gear. I gathered my things around me before sighing. "I'm sorry, Dizzy," I said. "That's…that's still a touchy subject."

Dizzy understood, just as he always did. He had lost his wife and step-son on E-day, and then when he found someone else to raise a family with, she died as well. The only thing he had left were his two girls from his second love. He understood grief. "Be careful out there, a'right, Bri?" he cautioned me as I jumped out of the Derrick. Nodding once to him, he continued. "Be back here at 'bout noon, and I'll be here to give ya' a ride back to Port."

I examined the sun's position against the horizon. Noon was about four hours away. A half hour to walk the two and a half miles to the camp, a half hour to walk back. That left me with three hours in the camp. It should be plenty. "Alright, Diz," I agreed. "I'll be here." With that, I slammed the passenger door.

I headed back south while Dizzy and the 'Dill of gears continued onwards towards Perth. For a brief second, I considered making the hike down to where Jacinto used to lay. I quickly decided against it, however. I didn't need to see that level of destruction ever again. Besides, it was another twelve miles. The icy air already chilling my soul reminded me how bad an idea like that would be. Instead, I followed the river bend back towards the camp.

My feet soon became numb and frozen. My face felt red and sore because of the constant bashing of the wind. _I hate winter…_I grumbled silently as each breath drew startling pain into my chest. I kept my mind occupied by scanning my surroundings over and over again, looking for anything out of place. The last thing I needed was to be jumped by an orphaned group of grubs. Every abandoned building was a sniper nest; every dip in the cracked pavement was an E-hole erupting. Nowhere was safe. This was the world I lived in.

I passed by one of our guard towers, only to find it unsettlingly vacant. That wasn't a good sign. Unconsciously I picked up my pace until I was jogging towards the camp. Crumbled buildings and lifeless rubble blocked my vision of the camp. Dix had known what he was doing when he picked a location. The camp was hard to see until you were literally right in front of it.

Turning a corner, my mouth dropped slightly with shock. The gate – the one rigged so cleverly with pulleys and ropes to protect us all – was nothing more than a smashed pile of broken metal and scorched wood. The perch where Darvish habitually harassed me was gone, collapsed onto the broken pavement. It would take weeks – if not months – to gather enough materials to rebuild the gate. For now, the camp was open, defenseless. Just like the COG.

Funny how similar the two could be.

Gingerly stepping over the pile of debris that had yet to be cleared, I made my way into the camp. Many of the buildings that used to make up the familiar horizon of my home had been smashed into the dirt like the gate. Every breath I took brought the choking scent of ash and decay into my lungs. Piles of desolated rubble still smoked from where hidden embers burned in the shadows. Grey and ashen faces wandered past me, never quite meeting the gaze of anyone near-by. Everyone I saw had a sort of lost expression. There was no anger, just acceptance.

It was also quiet. No one talked, for there was nothing to be said. Even the sound of rubble being cleared and dead bodies being removed was hushed. Unlike Port Farrall – which was filled with shouts and cries and needless noise – the camp was filled quite literally with dead air.

I still needed to find Sam, however. And Momma – I needed to make sure she was okay as well. A short list ran through my mind as I calculated who I would be devastated to lose. Surprisingly, Dix made the list. I was sure he'd be fine, however. Dix had made a habit of staying alive.

After wandering the camp for a full five minutes, my lips began to pucker into a whistle. I didn't want to disturb the camp any more than I needed to, but I _needed_ to find Sam. It was starting to worry me that I couldn't find her. Panic began to weigh more heavily in my chest. Taking a breath that hurt too much, I let a high-pitched whistle loose. "Sam!" I called, more loudly than necessary. "Sam, _Here!"_

There was an immediate change in the atmosphere. It was as if the high-pitched holler had chipped through the ice encasing the camp. Suddenly the people who had been passing by me without looking up began to stare me in the face. I heard a few muffled murmurs, but nothing more than that. No barks, no whimpers, nothing that let me know if Sam was alive or not. As I took a breath to yell again, someone interrupted me.

"She's over in the med hut."

I blinked and turned around, looking for who had addressed me. It was Erik, a man who I had seen frequently but spoke to sparingly. He motioned with his arm towards the center of camp to drive back his point. "She's in med," he repeated.

_Medical_. Suddenly, visions of bullet holes and chainsaw wounds flashed through my mind. Without another word to Erik or the crowd who had been watching me, I turned and sprinted towards the brick building in the center of camp. It wasn't just used for medical, however. It was storage, meeting centers, emergency housing, and where Dix took up residence. The fact that the camp members had already started calling it the 'med bay' spoke volumes on how many had been injured or killed in the attack.

I yanked open the wooden door to see a crowd of people amassed in the room. Anyone who wasn't tasked with some chore appeared to be here, although most were standing around aimlessly. I didn't have time to search through the crowd to pick out familiar faces; instead I searched for brown and black fur. "Sam?" I called again, but much more quieter than before.

Finally, I found her.

She was sitting next to an occupied cot, looking absolutely fine. I silently breathed a sigh of relief as I started her way, calling her again. This cot had more people than normal amassed around it, and I had to fight my way towards the front. "Sam," I addressed her again, but this time in recognition. A slight wave of her tail let me know she heard me, but she didn't dare move from her perch next to the cot. Confused, I pushed forward so I could see who it was that Sam refused to leave.

"She has internal bleeding," I heard a voice say. "The shrapnel is too close to her arteries – I can't operate. Even if I could, it's no use. She's going to go into shock soon as her blood pressure drops. There's nothing I can do."

The voice was Sheryl, our camp's veterinarian. She was speaking lowly to Dix, who was standing on the opposite side of Sam. He nodded stiffly to Sheryl, but when he saw me he spoke. "Bri," I distantly heard him say as he grabbed hold of my arm. "Bri, wait."

It was too late. Dix adjusted to try and hide the cot from me, but I had already seen. Shaking him off, I fell to my knees next to the cot. I stared in shock at the patient as my mind desperately tried to reject what my eyes were seeing.

It was Momma. And she wasn't moving.

* * *

**Author's Note: Wow. So, it's been a while. Been busy, but I haven't forgotten this story! **

**I also have another chapter almost ready. How cool is that?**

**I don't really have a lot to say here, mainly because I don't want to give anything away. I want to know what you think, however. Leave a review below please!**


	27. Death of a Legend

_Stranded Camp_

_Present Day_

"_How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."_

_-A.A. Milne  
_

It was Momma. And she wasn't moving.

Dix's arms wrapped around me as he tried to hold me back. I knew he was saying something – explaining, pleading, demanding – but I didn't care. Couldn't care. She wasn't moving. Oh, God, _she wasn't moving._

"No!" I choked out while I fought against Dix's restraining grip. "Please, no…_no!"_

Dix finally let me go and I collapsed onto the ground at her side. The crowd of people backed away to afford us what little privacy there was to be had. I could feel their sympathetic stares upon my back as I gently reached over and gathered Momma's chilled hand into my own. The skin was wrinkly and loose, and dotted with liver spots and old veins. My heart seized when I felt her old bones curl around my own.

"Momma?" I whispered with a tone of defeat in my voice. "Please…_please!_" I didn't know what I was begging for.

Her beautiful, watery eyes slowly opened and found my own in the dim light. "Bri?" she croaked out, her voice hushed and broken. Sam whined once and buried her nose deeper under Momma's arm. If dogs could cry, she would have been sobbing.

"I'm here, Momma," I said. "I'm here. It'll be okay. I'm here."

Slowly, a plan started forming in my mind. I was desperately reaching for a way to make everything okay again, a way to save everyone around me. Medical care – she needed medical care. Our medic couldn't remove the shrapnel? The COG could –

_The COG._

"I'm taking you to the COG. It'll be okay, I'll get you to Port Farrell. They have doctors, and medications, and they'll fix you right up, yeah? It'll be alright. I'll make it alright." I tried to push as much reassurance into my voice as I could. Not only for her sake, but for my own. The same desperation and hopelessness I had felt before on the Islands with Ace pressed against my chest making it hard to breathe. I wouldn't lose someone else I loved – I _wouldn't_. The COG would make it okay. They had to. How many gears had I saved? They owed me this. I never asked for anything before, I was asking now. I would hold a gun to the doctor's head if I had to.

I would _not_ let her die.

My mind raced frantically. Dizzy – Dizzy was coming back at noon. I only had to get her to the meeting spot and then Dizzy could take her back to the COG. I would carry her there if I had to. Or, I could go to the meeting spot and have Dizzy drive to the camp to pick Momma up. Dix didn't like COG in the camp, but this was Dizzy – he was practically one of us. Or Dix mentioned something about an old Junker he had. I could put Momma in there and drive back to the Port –

As consumed as I was by these thoughts, I almost missed the way her dirty face rocked back and forth against the stained pillow. Her fine hair splayed out around her like an incandescent halo as she attempted to smile. "No, Bri," she disagreed with me. "Life is short and I am old. I'm fortunate to have as many years as I did. But it's my time now, and – child, why are you crying?"

Tears overfilled my eyes and spilled out down my cheeks, tracing paths in the dirt they found there. Again my heart was so filled with emotion that it leaked from my eyes in salty dismay. I gripped her hand in both of my palms and pressed my fingers hard between the bones of her own. I couldn't think straight enough to loosen my grip. Momma didn't complain, she only held my hand impossibly tighter.

"I'm sorry," I beseeched for her forgiveness. "I shouldn't have left. I should have-"

"You stop that," she commanded me, a bit of her old spunk back in her weak voice. "Those thoughts are no good, Bri. You hear me? No good. They will destroy you. It wasn't your fault. _It wasn't your fault."_

Someone laid a comforting hand on my shoulder that I didn't want. The others around us sniffled and held back their own grief as I sobbed at her bedside. The others had gotten their chance to say goodbye. They were just waiting with us for the end. The dreary cabin was overflowed with people and tears and sorrow. The heat of so many people stayed the cold of the winter morning just outside the door. It was wrong; the sun shouldn't have been shining through the cracks in the wall, the sky should have collapsed with rain at such a travesty. The world should have ended – again.

It wasn't fair. _It wasn't fair_. Why did people like Momma and Ace and Maria – good, honest, lovable people – have to die while scum like myself got to live? I would have traded my own pitiful life ten times over for any one of them. The world would have been so much better with either of them in it. I suppose that's why they were all taken away. We couldn't have anything good or right in this world. We didn't deserve it. We deserved to suffer and fight and to _live_ while everyone righteous and good was taken away.

It was then I was glad I had no faith, no religion, and no deity. Because there was no God ever imagined that would forgive the anger I held deep within my heart.

She coughed weakly then, leaving tiny splutters of red around her insipid lips. She was close to the end, now. I had seen enough death to recognize the symptoms. Her skin was as cold as the world outside, as if snow had fallen in her veins. Her eyes were hard to focus, but they finally came to rest upon my face. Her voice was slightly slurred as she spoke again.

"Bri," she said. "My Bri. Remember, this world is dark, but you are the light. Just be happy, Bri. You have to try, Bri. For me. Try to be happy."

Not trusting my own voice, I simply nodded as more tears slipped unendingly down my face. Apparently she had already said her final words to everyone else in the camp, as she simply smiled weakly at the crowd of devastated people surrounding her deathbed. Before she slipped away, she whispered her final words:

"How lucky I am to have so many loved ones that it makes goodbyes so hard…"

It grew quiet in the room, the only sound left was of people silently sobbing and Momma's labored breathing. Sheryl, the camp's doctor, knelt down on the other side of the cot. She took Momma's other hand in her own, but instead of simply holding it for comfort, she pressed her fingers to the inside of Momma's wrist and counted her pulse. Unable to bring myself to do the same, I pressed the back of Momma's and my hands to my face. Sam stretched her neck out and licked Momma's crinkled cheek before laying her muzzle down upon her shoulder.

We waited together for the end.

A time later that felt all too short and too long all together, Momma's chest started to convulse. She was searching desperately for air that felt like it would not come. I could hear her groan slightly as Sheryl motioned for someone behind me. "She's going into cardiac arrest. Her heart's trying to pump blood that isn't there. Dix, please –"

That was all that needed to be said. As much as Momma deserved to pass peacefully in her sleep, it wasn't to be. Dix's calloused hand grabbed my shoulder tightly as he moved me behind him and out of the way. His wide back stood between me and Momma, so I could hardly see her body start to convulse. Instead, I saw Dix reach for his sidearm and draw it out of its holster.

Momma couldn't be allowed to suffer. And Dix – horrible, wonderful Dix – took it upon himself to do what had to be done. Like a true leader, he wouldn't leave it for anyone else. I saw his arm move quickly as he positioned the barrel next to her temple. "No!" I tried to shout, even though I knew it was for the best. My eyes clamped shut; I couldn't watch another person important to me die.

For the second time in days, the sound of exploded gunpowder carried away someone I loved.

A few shocked gasps broke the resulting silence, and Sam started barking wildly at Dix. I couldn't move; I was frozen on the ground where Dix had planted me. I didn't dare open my eyes – I knew the offending spray that resulted from a gunshot all too well. I could already smell the scent of blood and brains in the frozen air.

I would have laid there for an eternity – not daring to open my eyes – but someone grabbed me by my shoulders and hoisted me away. Only the feel of frozen wind across my wet cheeks let me know that we had left the cabin. My blind feet tripped over fallen rubble and the person guiding me held me tighter to them. It was a while before we stopped walking, and I never once opened my eyes. I couldn't find it within me to look out upon this new world without Momma in it.

Finally the sound of the camp faded away – replaced by the sound of rushing water – and the person next to me guided me to a stop. I felt calloused fingers wipe away the unending tears upon my cheek. I convulsed with sobs, finally collapsing upon the riverbed on my knees, never opening my eyes. The kind stranger never once left me, only silently brushed away my tears.

Time seemed to stand still and rush forward all at once. I had no idea how long I knelt in the silt next to the rushing river, by my companion never left. Finally, when I had no more tears left to shed, my eyes slowly opened again. The blinding noon sun sparkled off of the snow and ice. The frozen world was so heart-wrenchingly beautiful and so ugly all at once. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the light, I could make out the facial features of my companion.

It was Dix.

His black hair tangled in the wind, but he didn't brush it aside. Instead, he stared unwaveringly at me; all his attention was focused upon me. He waited for me to begin the conversation. I didn't think I could, but there was a burning desire within me to know one thing.

"How?" I pleaded, my voice still hushed with tears. "Just…how?"

To Dix's credit, he didn't need any further explanation. "There was an explosion. A few days after the initial attack, she was helping clear rubble out of the camp when something – an old grenade, a hidden propane tank, something – exploded. Shrapnel pierced near her arteries. There was nothing anyone could do." That would be all it would have taken. Internal bleeding, inoperable puncture sites. The fragility of humanity was always a slap to the face.

Guilt immediately flooded my veins. I should have been able to stop this. _I _should have been here. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Finally Dix moved. His long spindly fingers reached out and grasped my shoulders almost painfully. "There is nothing you have to be sorry for. This was no one's fault. It shouldn't have happened."

There was a pause as he continued to stare deeply at my face. The hands he had grasped around my shoulders loosened, and became more of a caress than a grip. "It shouldn't have happened to you. And anyone who tells you that everything will be okay is a liar."

I understood what Dix was trying to say. Momma's death wouldn't be okay. It would never be okay. And sometimes you just had to find a way to live with that.

The time spent next to the river felt like an eternity. The rushing of the water drowned out my sobs, until they quieted down to just a few sniffles. My eyes itch with the outpouring of emotion, and I grind my palms against them until they press back into my skull. _No more tears_ I chastise myself. If I let any more of the pain out, it will never end.

When I open my eyes again, little sparks dance in my vision for a moment. I feel exhausted, but I also feel empty, which is good. Empty is a lot like numb, which is what I need right now. The sun is directly over us now. The cold rays cast shadows over Dix's face. He never left, I'll give him that much. And his hands are still wrapped around my shoulders.

"I'm…" I was starting to say _okay_, but I know he'll hear it as the lie it is. "I'm…I need to go," I say instead.

He doesn't look surprised. He never truly does. "Where will you go?"

I shrug._ Does it matter?_ I think to myself. He takes my silence for the answer it is, and begins to release me. At the last second, I feel him change his mind as his muscles tense in a different direction. Instead of dropping his hands at his side like I expect, he brings his right one up to run through my tangled, loose hair. He cups the back of my skull, drawing my eyes back to him.

"Be good," is all he says before letting his fingers trail through my hair. As soon as he's done, he turns around and begins the walk back to the camp.

* * *

_**Author's note: Sorry this took so long. I'm still not completely happy with it, but I need to move on with this story. **_

_**I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story! Please leave a review in the section below! **_


	28. Escape

**_**Warning** Parts of this chapter are very graphic, and should only be read by mature readers. If you don't wish to read this part, simply stop reading at the double brackets ( [[ ) and begin reading at the end of the double brackets ( ]] ). _**

* * *

_Stranded Camp_

_Present Day_

"_Since the dawn of time, man has been encumbered – and entranced – by the idea of death. Not only of death, but of defeating death. Pharaohs buried all their worldly possessions with them, expecting to live on. Legends sprung forth of magical, age-defying springs of water. They created myths: a paradise in the sky, a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth, or other planes of reality._

_But there is one, hard truth of life, and this is it – we all die. More so, we all die alone."_

_-From the personal diary of Chairman Richard Prescott_

Sam brushes up against my side, but her touch doesn't bring the typical amount of happiness it normally does. It brings guilt, and anger, and sadness. Her head is down and her tail tucked, and it is my fault. It is all my fault.

_I let her die._

I stayed next to that frozen river bank for longer than I should have. Realistically I knew I should have gotten up and headed back to camp; there would have been a memorial or funeral for Momma and the rest of the fallen. But getting up would have taken more energy than I had within me. It hurt to even continue breathing, to feel the sandpapery air dragging life in and out of my chest. _In. Out. In. Out._ Momma was no longer breathing. And that was my fault.

_I should have been here._

It was only after Sam found me out by the river was when I finally moved. I didn't want Dix to come back out to me, either. My scalp still tingled where his hand rested, which was…unsettling. It wasn't necessarily a _bad_ feeling having him that close, but all other emotions swelled and were darkened by the depression in my chest. I didn't deserve to feel special, or loved, or happy. Not after…

_I could have saved her._

I was wandering aimlessly around the circumference of the camp – not through it. I couldn't deal with the stares of pity that I was sure would come. It felt like I didn't belong anywhere anymore. Not the COG – with its copious amounts of angry stares from self-entitled citizens. I wanted to disappear in this horrible world. I could have left, but to where? Every Stranded camp had a Dix, and every person like me ended up owing them. The outcasts. The desperate. The invisible. The deserters.

My boots brought me to the edge of the woods, along the far-side of the camp. I was skirting around the underbrush and trees so my steps left foot-prints in the half-ice snow behind me. Sam walked next to me, an ever faithful companion that I couldn't even begin to deserve. I was down-wind of the camp, so I could smell the heavy scent of camp fires heating their small world. Maybe there would be a fire. Maybe I could let the orange flames dissolve me and the black smoke attack my lungs. Maybe that would put an end to my misery.

A figure on the edge of the woods distracted me from my morbid thoughts. It took a few more steps for me to recognize his stooped figure. It was Darvish. Of course he would have been self-ostracized to the forest. He never got along well with anyone inside the camp. That was why he preferred the position of gate keeper. It allowed him to spend hours alone without actually leaving the camp. Now that the gate was destroyed, I wasn't quite sure what role he would come to fulfill in the camp. I doubted he knew either.

Not in the mood for company, I briefly considered ducking into the woods, but I decided that would take too much effort. Instead I continued my slow amble in his direction. Sam let out a low growl as we approached, but even she lacked the energy to do much more than that. I dragged to a stop about five feet from him. He glanced up in surprise, not expecting company this far from the camp.

His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. He was under some sort of influence, like he so often was. This was to excess, however. Normally Darvish didn't sway where he stood, nor did he slur his words when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Great fuckin' day, isn't it?" The anger in his voice was grating. It was only then I remembered; Momma was the one who brought him into the camp.

I didn't answer. He didn't appear to want a response anyway; I doubt he could have remembered the question. Instead we both stood there, shivering in the cold, fighting against the shared grief we both felt.

"Ah, hell with this," he finally said as he turned to go back into the woods. Before he went, however, he flashed me a quick glimpse of a silver flask. "You coming?"

Without hesitation, I followed him and the booze deeper into the woods.

* * *

Later, when the sun was just beginning to shift to that honey-glazed look before sundown, Darvish and I sat across from each other. We both leaned back against separate trees, passing the silver flask between us. Just now, Darvish holds it out to me, like a peace offering across a table. I took it – ignoring how my hand shook just the slightest – and unscrewed the cap. It's half filled with trouble, and regrets, and a deep amber color that mirrors the shame in my eyes. I could already taste the fire of it burning its way through my body and soul before I pressed it to my lips.

I took a deep swallow and brushed away a few drops leaking out the side of my mouth. My throat – long used to this sort of abuse – barely protested as I forced more booze into my body. Clearing my throat, I passed the flask back to him.

He holds it in his lap instead of taking another swig. Sam is lying a slight distance away, refusing to face him, or me, or either of us. She rests her head on her paws, trying to ignore the scent of alcohol permeating the air. On my other side rests my guns; it was too uncomfortable to sit against the bark with them pressed against my back.

I stank, but I didn't care. Somehow it was gratifying to smell and look as bad as I felt.

Darvish raised the flask and met my eyes. "To Momma," he said, and took a long pull. I took it back from him and repeated his actions.

"Ahh, hell," he said, letting his head fall back against the tree at his back. His bloodshot eyes sank shut. "Damn shame. Never met a woman who deserved to die. Men? There's always a reason to kill a man. But women? Nah…" he shook his head, rubbing tree sap into his hair.

Instead of immediately passing back the flask, I held it in my lap. "And what are you basing that on?"

He answered without opening his eyes. "Men are all blunt, discourteous assholes. A woman at least has some purposes." A sickening grin widens his oily lips as he looks at me. "Like you. You're a flat out bitch, but at least you're fuckable."

Through the alcohol-induced haze, his words struck a bad cord. "I'm _what?!"_ I seethed through clenched teeth.

"You are a rude, naïve, bitch of a woman. But at least one part of you serves some purpose." He leans forward to grab the flask from my lap, but instead finds the inside of my thigh. "This makes you both more and less fuckable at the same time. Wanna see?"

I slap away his hand and shove him backwards. The flask falls from my lap as I try to spring to my feet, but the alcohol hits and I sway. I had lost track of how much I had to drink. Darvish grabs me around the waist and pins me against the tree at my back. His hips press against mine, and for the moment I'm too drunk to fight him off. I raise my hand, but he takes it in his own and threads his fingers through it as his knee nudges my legs apart.

"Come on," he whispers against my neck. "I'm even willing to ignore how your face looks and only focus on your tits and ass and –"

My other hand – the one not imprisoned in his own – punches him in the shoulder, the neck, anywhere I can reach. "Get off of me, you-"

**[[ **He finally catches my other hand before I can land another punch. He takes both my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head. He hadn't been as drunk as I thought he was, or he'd never have been able to maneuver that. "Nuh-uh," he chastises me. He reaches under my shirt to grope at my chest, and I hate it and _I hate it and I hate him and I hate myself_.

I open my mouth to yell and scream, but he catches my lips with his own. His tongue slips inside and it's slimy and disgusting and tastes like the booze I had been sharing with him only moments before. I jerk my head to the side, ripping my mouth from him, but he only follows the corner of my jaw down to my neck. My skin crawls everywhere he is touching me. I fight and buck against him, but he only uses my struggles as leverage to press me closer and to widen my legs against him. My body doesn't respond the way I want it to – it's too leaden with the alcohol I had been poisoning it with only minutes beforehand.

I scream in anger and frustration. His hand comes out from under my shirt to unbutton my jeans. I buck again as his hand begins to travel its way southward into my jeans, and that most sacred area. His fingers brush the part of me that was mine to give and no one's to take. **]]**

I fought violently against him, but in the end my salvation came in eighty-odd pounds of fur and teeth. Sam's barking filled the air around us. Her long canines sank into Darvish's calf with a vengeance. Her head whipped back and forth, tearing the flesh deep within, until he fell away from me with a shout. Without his body pinning me to the tree, I fell down to my knees. Darvish kicked at Sam until she released his leg. She retreated to stand in front of my crumpled body in a defensive pose. The fur all down the length of her back was standing straight up, and her growling sounded like an engine.

"Dumb bitch!" he yelled in pain. "Don't tell me that mutt of yours has rabies, or I'll-"

He stopped talking when he saw the barrel of my gun lined up with his forehead. His distraction gave me the opportunity to draw my sidearm. I was so filled with rage that my body was trembling with the pressure of it, but my hands were steady. "Get out of here," I snarled. "Don't go back to the camp, or I'll tell Dix."

Dix's rule against sexual assault were clear – no second chances. If there was an ounce of proof a man had assaulted a woman in the camp, he would be killed. _Painfully_. I knew without a doubt Dix would take my word without hesitation.

Darvish's eyes flickered uncertainly between Sam's glistening teeth and my gun. He scooted backwards, as if that paltry amount of space between us would somehow save him. "Dix don't care," he finally answered. "You're not his girl."

"You're going to be his girl if you don't get the _fuck_ out of here."

It took him a minute to register the threat to his manhood. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

"I can live with that." I motioned with my gun. "Now get the hell away from me."

"You should-" he started to speak again, but the sound of gunfire shut him up. I was so wound with tension that my fingers had tensed and I jerked the trigger. There was no slow, easy pull like Ace had taught me so long ago. That fire was anger, and rage, and nerves finding a release. Next to his head, the bark of the tree shattered, leaving a burnt circle outlining the bullet's entrance.

I had no idea if I missed, or if I _meant_ to shoot him in the head.

"Go." I snapped. There was absolutely no patience within me to debate this any longer. "Now."

Something in my expression – or the bullet hole inches from his skull – convinced him to slowly get to his feet. I saw him wince as he put pressure on the leg Sam had attacked, and I felt a surge of vindictive pleasure. Not bothering any longer with conversation, he started back in the direction of the camp.

"No," I snapped at him, and he stopped. "You don't live in the camp any longer. Go find a new place. If I see you back there, I _will_ kill you."

He looked like he was about to protest my announcement, but then his eyes flickered back to my gun. Instead of arguing, he simply put his hands in the air and modified his route. I followed him with the point of my barrel until his disappeared from sight.

It was only when I was totally sure that he was gone that I allowed myself to shatter.

I collapsed onto my knees, trembling as the adrenalin and fear attacked once more. Emotion welled up within my eyes and spilled over. Sam came over to me, and I threw my arms around her warm neck. I still held my sidearm tight in my fist, and it took all the strength I had in me to replace it back in my holster. I collapsed against the tree at my back – the one with my guns next to it, so useless when I needed them most.

_Don't cry, for God's sakes,_ I told myself. _This isn't you. Not anymore. You're not helpless. Breathe._

But it wasn't working. Nothing was working tonight.

I was crying, so angry at myself, but I couldn't stop. The only time I allowed myself to cry like this was when I was alone, with only the stars to witness my weakness. And I wished so much that my father was here, even though I knew that it was stupid. Even he didn't even know me well enough to save me.

The alcohol in my system swirled through me, becoming more pronounced as the adrenalin faded. My vision swam with dark spots as I fought against the spinning of the world. Sam laid down, pressing her body against mine, and I used her presence to help ground me.

I don't know how long it was before I saw her. One minute I was focusing completely on not blacking out, and the next I turned my head and caught a glimpse of her in the polished metal of the forgotten flask. Her hair was greasy, her face covered with dirt and scratches. She looked drunk, but I would have known her anywhere. It was everybody else who always liked to think she was gone for good.

I blinked at her, and my reflection blinked back. I wiped off my face, and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to give it some life. She stared back at me as I did this, knowing as well as I did that these were just smoke and mirrors, little tricks. And the sick thing? In a way, I was almost happy to see her. The worst parts of me, out in the flesh. Blinking back at me in the dim light, daring me to call her a name other than my own.

Using the last of my strength, I reached out and buried the flask beneath a pile of dead leaves and forest decay. My image went with it. If only I could have buried myself in the same way.

My head felt heavy, so I laid it down on the forest floor. The rich scent of dirt filled my lungs, and I focused on that. _Breath in, breath out._ If I stopped doing that, I would die. That's all it would take – just stop breathing. I wondered idly if I could do it, if I could overpower my body long enough to sink into unconsciousness. I probably couldn't – I wasn't strong enough. Wasn't strong enough to stop the ones I loved from dying, nor strong enough to die myself. Any half-decent person in my position would have turned their own gun against themselves long ago. I was probably either too tough or too scared to do so. Probably a little of both.

My eyes sank closed as the alcohol in my system lulled me to sleep. My eyes felt cemented shut. Maybe, if I was lucky, I wouldn't have to open them again. There was a loud grumbling in my head that was probably a warning of the wicked hangover I would have come morning. It was already filling my ears, rattling around in my mind and causing my teeth to grind unconsciously together. I tried to get away from the drone of it, but it just seemed to get louder, and louder. Finally, as the noise reached an almost unbearable point, it began to idle at an eye-searing level. It almost sounded like I was in the engine of a Derrick. I felt like I had been swallowed whole by Betty, until my world was filled with exhaust fumes and mechanical parts.

I could even smell it – the heady fumes of burning oil and imulsion fuel. The thick scent of rubber tire made my stomach roll threateningly. All I wanted was to sleep. Even the ground seemed set against me, as it rolled beneath me and uncurled my limp body. Suddenly, I felt like I was floating in midair. Maybe I was flying – but I could still feel two pressure points on my body; one under my knees, and the other around my shoulder. Maybe they were my wings. I couldn't make my mind follow one straight course of thought, and my mind pounded with the effort of trying to piece together all of these odd sensations. Finally, when I could take no more and felt like my skull would burst, I opened my eyes.

They refused to focus at first. All I saw was the grey of the sky, the black of the trees, and the white of the snow blurred together into a grey-scale image of desolation. But there was a spill of yellow on my horizon, closer than I'd ever seen. Straw-colored hair, spilling over my sight like sunshine. My own personal sun, come to rescue me. Maybe it was a wish, or a dream. Either way, it was so real that at some point, I could actually feel it. Like a warmth coming closer, enveloping me, arms closing around me, lifting me up. Rescuing me from my personal hell.

* * *

_**Author's note: Two chapters in one day? I know! I barely believe it myself! **_

_**Incredibly, this chapter turned out to be darker that the previous. I apologize for that; I didn't want to make it quite that graphic, but it sort of ended up writing itself. **_

_**The next chapter is something I've been looking forward to writing for a long time. :D I hope you'll enjoy reading it as well!**_

_**Oh, one last thing. I'm curious – what do you think the ending is all about? Send your responses in through the review button! Ten points to whoever guesses right! :D**_


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